Those I've Loved
by fashiongirl97
Summary: 'I wouldn't be who I am today, if not for those I've loved along the way' They didn't kiss in Marseille, nor did they kiss in Serbia or Paris, not even in America. Instead they remained friends, but that is not to say that she didn't fall in love with him. Jenny never left his side after Paris, so now she must watch him marry Stephanie, and he must watch her attempt to move on.
1. The Wedding of Leroy Jethro Gibbs

**Disclaimer **_NCIS is not mine_

**Authors note **_Well . . . I'm back! I've been really busy and this story had been sat half written forever. But here is goes. It's not great, in fact this is the best chapter. But we'll see what you all think. Thanks to all who helped me with the title, and to Left My Heart in Paris who is always so supportive. _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_**The Wedding of Leroy Jethro Gibbs**_

* * *

'_I sneak in and see your friends,  
And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel,  
And she is yelling at a bridesmaid,  
Somewhere back inside a room,  
Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry'_

_-Taylor Swift, Speak Now_

* * *

He'd like the green dress - that was something she was certain of. The way the material was softly fitted from her shoulders to her hips, before it went out into an almost skater style skirt. Hitting about an inch above the knee it left just enough to the imagination, and the scoop neck gave it an air of sophistication. The colour brought out her eyes and made her hair look an even brighter shade of red. It had three quarter sleeves which worked perfectly with a handful of silver bangles around her wrist. Jenny even had the perfect silver and green heels to match.

It would make his jaw drop.

That was why the dress in question was therefore hung up on her wardrobe door - a simple reminder that she could still amaze him. But today it wouldn't matter. Today Leroy Jethro Gibbs' eyes would - should - be on the latest woman to wear white and stand next to him at the top of the aisle. Another red head; with long legs and a perfect figure who'd be smiling like an angel. Another woman who thought that she'd just found the love that everyone wrote about and so craved. Jenny however, she'd be sat in the pews watching as he took yet another woman's hand in marriage.

The dress was pretty, there was no denying that. It was styled like the 1950's and in a pale lemon colour that was perfect for a seasonal wedding. But it wasn't a jaw dropping dress - not for Gibbs anyway. The top was loose, with a sash neckline and made of lemon silk with white large polka dots. It was pulled in around her waist with a matching lemon ribbon that tied behind her back. The skirt then went out into a mass if small pleats. It hit slightly shorter than the green one did, but it looked a lot less sexy in her eyes.

Sighing reflectively at her reflection she moved over to her bed and put on the strappy silver 'ridiculously high' heels. It only been four months since they'd returned from that damned Paris op. she'd counted the days and knew that they'd been gone well over a year. And before Paris there had been London, Serbia, Russia, Postianto and Marseille. In the last three years she'd been home for no longer than two months. They'd been home no longer than two months. Yet somehow he'd apparently managed to string some beautiful red head along to the degree that they were already getting married.

In the last few years, they'd come so close to crossing that line a few times. There had been times, when the mission had nearly consumed her. When she didn't know where she ended and her alias began. It had been Gibbs that shook her out of it; him who plied her with bourbon whilst they drowned their sorrows. There had been times when both of them had grown so close that crossing that invisible line would have been the clear next step. But they didn't. Something, whatever it was, had stopped them. Maybe it was the fear that they'd fall in love, something she never planned on and he feared. Or maybe it was the fear that they'd ruin everything. But undoubtedly, Jenny and Jethro had grown close. Yet it seemed now, like all of that had meant so little to him.

A knock at the door shook her out of her thoughts of self pity. So she stood up and made her way downstairs to the front door. Her heals sending echoes of clip clop around the empty shell of a house. A house, which had once upon a time had held so many memories in every corner of every room. Memories of Christmases spent laughing and smiling, birthdays and throwing wrapping paper all over the room, and those days which for no particular reason stuck with her - once it held those memories. When her life was so different, but now it was just a place where she spent her evenings and the odd day off she was forced to take. A place, which was no longer a home, but now simply the shadow of the place it formerly was.

With a practiced ease the red head opened the larger heavy solid oak front door to reveal Ducky. A man, whom whether he said openly or not was well aware that the event which was about to take place would be hard on her. After all, he had been there, he'd been there when the pair had first met, when the spark had been lit and the first time both of them had put trust in the other. Ducky had silently watched as one, the other, or both of them gradually took down their walls, and on the nights when they broke into a million pieces. In fact, he was more aware than both Jenny and Gibbs when it came to just how deep the feelings of these two agents lay.

"Ducky!" The red head said, a warm smile instantly gracing her face at the sight of the Scotsman. As per usual he was dressed smartly: in a dark grey smart suit, with a white shirt and a deep red bow tie, tied proudly around his neck. He looked handsome, and very dapper in Jenny's eyes. And the warm smile on his face made her feel like she was at home already. Like the day would be manageable even if right then it seemed impossible.

"Hello my dear." He replied in his soft Scottish accent as she let him in. "Are you nearly ready?" He questioned, smirking politely at the sight of her looking almost ready apart from the large curlers firmly placed in her hair.

"I've just got to take these out, I won't be too long" she stated, whilst jogging upstairs. Yet, as soon as she was alone she felt herself drop again at the thought of the day. Slowly she removed the curlers to reveal wavy red hair. And with a touch of red lipstick she was done. She took a deep breath and grabbed her bag before looking in the mirror. She should - technically - be happy that her best friend was getting married and - apparently - in love. But instead Jenny found herself wishing the day away, wishing that instead she could just go to another place where things were simpler.

Remembering that Ducky was downstairs she told herself to get it together and walked down the stairs. The Scotsman emerged from the rarely used living room at the sound of her arrival. "You look wonderful Jennifer." the doctor said and Jenny smiled at him thankfully. And it was true, she did look amazing, whether she had meant to or not Jenny would make her partners jaw drop, along with the jaws of their new agent Stan Burley. Stan had been on the team of another agent, however that agent had retired and so he'd been moved to Gibbs' team and partnered up with William Decker.

"Thanks Ducky." She said, softly looking down at her fingernails painted in pearl white to match her toes. "Are you ready?" Jenny asked him, already wanting to get the day over and done with so that she could come back home and curl up in bed. So that she could shove on one of those films that Gibbs had always hated and try to stop thinking about her.

But for now, it was time to stop worrying about herself, and at least look as though she was happy for the man who had stood by her side through everything.

* * *

Strangely enough, considering the fact that it was Gibbs' fourth wedding, the ceremony was held in a church. But in the same way that it was strange, it was also expected, because even though Jenny had never really focused on the fact, Gibbs was actually a religious man. He didn't preach or openly pray. But maybe it comes with the job; it helps sometimes to believe there is something or someone watching over us after all. Maybe it was the longing to hope that those that we lose along the way do in fact, go to a better place. That they don't just end up in the ground – six feet under. However, whatever his reasoning behind it, it must have been a reasonably strong belief.

So that was why, on a day which was considerably warmer than it was generally expected to be, she was stuck inside a freezing cold church in a dress which was certainly not built for warmth. As she sat there, though, she realised that the church had been Stephanie's choice. It wasn't as ostentatious as Jenny assumed his wedding to Diane had been but, at the same time, neither was it the rustic comfort that Gibbs would have wanted. The church was of average size with substantial room for the 100 or so people that had been invited.

The inside of the church was an almost flesh coloured stone that she would hazard a guess resembled the same texture as sandstone - or would that make it too soft? Inside was perfectly decorated with carvings that reminded her of those minute details you'd imagine when listening to a fairy tale being told to you as a child. When your eyes were closed and you were curled up in bed, blissfully resting in that state between consciousness and slumber, when you're imagination was free to run wild. Pews lined the large space in two rows. Dark varnished wood that was incredibly uncomfortable to sit on. Prayer cushions - each on embroidered with a different pattern in rich reds and gold's and greens - sat at her feet. The colours slightly faded and if you looked closely the edges they were slightly tattered and worn from use.

Beside of her was Ducky, both of them sat on the front row, along with the Director Tom Marrow. They were representing Gibbs' family. She didn't know much about his blood relatives, only that his mother had died and his father was not around. Somewhere behind them were the other NCIS agents who had been classed as close enough to attend; Stan Burley, William Decker, and the lab tech. The other side of the church represented Stephanie's family, who had seeped across into Gibbs' scarcely filled side too. All dressed in pastels a little sickly for Jenny's liking and smiling so brightly. Across from Jenny, on the front row of the opposite side, sat a woman in a pale lilac, her hair bright red, and looking like she was about to cry. From the hair colour, the dress and the matching hat, the special agent assumed she must be Stephanie's mother. Jenny had to resist the urge to scoff at the cliché mother-of-the-bride attitude.

It wasn't that she didn't like Stephanie, in fact if she was honest out of all of Gibbs' girlfriends and wives that she had met, Stephanie was definitely the best by far. She was lovely, and caring, but the problem was, that Jenny saw her as a little naïve. Maybe that was a prejudiced view, but if she was honest, Stephanie was blindsided by love. So much so that she couldn't see that her soon to be husband, did not feel the same. She was a replacement for Shannon, and if Jenny was honest with herself, the fear of being the same was the thing that had always stopped her from crossing the line.

"My dear, I think it's about to start." Said Ducky, breaking her thoughts and from the tone of his voice, the red headed agent knew very well, that his impression of the whole fiasco was pretty much along the same lines as hers. And then, the music began to play, and all she could think was that this was that woman's death march into a marriage that was almost guaranteed to fail.

* * *

Her dress was something out of a fairytale. Strapless, white, with a belt of silver around her waist, pulling her in before it went out into a princess skirt. It wasn't massive, but it was a lot bigger than Jenny would have chosen for herself. The bride's hair was half up half down, and lightly curled. She looked beautiful, even a slightly bitter Jenny could not deny the woman that complementary thought. But as she walked up to aisle towards her fiancé, Jenny felt her heart break ever so slightly. Jethro was stood there, looking just as he always did. In a tux, with his tie and shoes polished, hair freshly cut into his classic marine style - he looked every bit as dashing as she had known he would.

He smiled when she walked up to him.

Looked at her lovingly through the whole of the ceremony.

And said the vows like someone who was saying them for the fourth time.

And when they said 'kiss the bride' he did so, and Jenny discretely looked down. Whilst Duck slipped his hand into hers and softly squeezed it, knowing how much this would be hurting her. She and Jethro had been married as their cover, but it hadn't all been pretence – anyone could see that a mile off. They'd put their lives in the hands of the other, and that was something that could only be convincingly achieved when there was a certain degree of trust being held.

And when they parted everyone clapped, even Jenny. As bittersweet as the moment was, she had promised herself that she would not bitter. So she clapped and smiled back when Stephanie's eyes passed over her. But Jethro didn't look at anyone else, instead he just looked in a daze as he realised that he'd made yet another woman the latest in an ever growing list of Mrs L. J. Gibbs'.

* * *

It was when they had all gathered outside of the church. Watching as the bride and groom walked down the narrow weathered path, under a shower of rose petals and pale pink or white confetti, that Gibbs finally caught his partner's eye from across the crowd. There she stood, the sun catching her auburn hair and making it look ablaze with even brighter colours. Her skin so pale in colour and softly dappled with a scattering of freckles brought out by the warm weather. And then there were those eyes, emerald sparkling slightly more precious than any gem. Sparkling just a little because even though she knew how this union would end, she'd realised she was nothing more than selfish if she didn't try to be happy for him.

She watched as he saw her, as that careful analysing gaze and those stunning cobalt eyes fell upon her. He saw how beautiful she looked - even if she wasn't wearing the green dress - and how there was a slight longing in her eyes for him to be careful. As Jenny slowly blinked and smiled at him, he just nodded, not breaking eye contact once. Because it was their silent agreement that no matter what happened, that no matter how this marriage ended, they'd - try at least - to never let anything get in the way of their friendship. Because to him that meant a hundred times more than any other relationship ever would do.

And as quickly as they'd told each other what they needed to say, it was over. Gibbs was back smiling at his wife, and Jenny was left trying to figure out just where she stood now. Because things were about to change; there would be no more late night takeout meals in his basement, sanding the boat and drinking more bourbon than was advisable in one night. There would be no more tickle fights or innuendos when they were alone. And it wasn't that she wasn't pleased for him, because she was, Jenny was just a little heartbroken that she seemed to view him in a different way to how he viewed her.

But what the red headed field agent, with a temper as strong as her hair would suggest, had not realised was that as he had stood there saying his vows, he'd realised something. This marriage unlike his others wasn't to try and find a replacement for Shannon. This one was to try and find a replacement for the woman he had let slip through his fingers: Jenny Shepard.

However, now he slid into the back of their chauffer driven, vintage cream 1938 Rolls Royce Phantom limousine. With a tan brown leather bench seat in the back, decorated with stitching running vertically down towards the carpet of darker brown and all of the trimmings were in polished silver. In the middle an adaptation had been made and there proudly sat a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, its bright orange label just visible inside of the cooler. Either side of it was a crystal cut champagne glass, guarding the bottle.

Stephanie slid in a first, a massive smile on her face, whilst Gibbs slid in behind her once her dress was completely in and he was sure that he hadn't stepped on it at all. He sat in the back seat and smiled at her as she leant forward and took the glasses waiting for him to get the bottle and open it. And as the car drove away - the long way - to the reception, the last thing they all saw was the car driving off with as the sound of that iconic 'pop!' as the champagne was opened.

As the car drove away the wedding party began to divide off as they all headed to their cars so that they could make their way to the reception. It was being paid for by Stephanie's family who had all clubbed together to give her the wedding she had always dreamed of. That was why it was being held at a historic boutique hotel in the city: the Topaz hotel.

Jenny, Ducky, William Decker and Tom Marrow began to walk toward the car park, and Stan Burly ran up to them after being left behind. He had a cheeky childishly smug grin on his face as he watched one of Stephanie's friends from work walk away. A blonde, with long legs, who was wearing a pastel blue dress, and with whom he had been flirting with throughout the entirety of the ceremony. "Oh I _love_ weddings!" he said, his grin ever growing as he got in pace with Jenny. "Don't you red? They're full of . . . love and happiness."

Jenny turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow at his comment, whilst glaring at him because of his calling her by his nickname for her; 'red'. A name she had strictly told him that he could not, under any circumstances, call her by. So for that comment, and his trying to get off with one of the brides best friends, she lifted up her hand and head-slapped him in perfect Gibbs imitation style. As soon as she had done it she instantly felt a little better, but his hand was on the back of his head, rubbing it ever so slightly whilst pouting like a little child at being hit. "Ouch! Shepard that really hurt!" He claimed, failing to make her feel bad about her actions but instead make her smirk.

"It was only what Gibbs would have done if he were here." She stated, as they approached their cars in the car park. She headed with Ducky to his silver Morgan, the car that was originally going to be used as a wedding car until Stephanie had fallen in love with the Rolls Royce. Ducky went around to the driver's side whilst the others began to head off to their cars – Stan still moaning.

"Shut up Agent Burley, you deserved it!" They heard Tom Marrow say in his directors voice as he got into the black town car with his security, and as the door closed, they all broke down into hysterics whilst the agent in question stood there looking like a child who had just found out that Santa didn't exist. And that was what made Jenny's day, but it was also what made her realise that maybe she could get through the rest of the day, because if she had her friends around her then that would mean that she didn't actually have to acknowledge Gibbs. He could have his day with his new wife, and she could stay with the lads as long as she had to, and then disappear off into the night.

* * *

The reception was just as classic as Jenny had imagined that it would be. The events room was beautiful, with white walls, each one with an engraved border decorated in a cross culture theme; English heritage mixed with the French chateaux look. The flooring was a dark stained wood, buffed to the extent that you could see your face in it – just for the occasion. The outside wall was broken up by two sets of French doors which opened out onto a patio, framed with white pillars and steps which lead down into a large garden. A garden which could be anywhere in the world, but would not be expected in the centre of a large city.

At one end of the room there was the long head table. It seated Gibbs and his wife, and mainly Stephanie's family; her parents, sister and bridesmaids. But Gibbs' family was simply represented by Ducky. He'd wanted Jenny there, but Stephanie hadn't been too pleased by the idea. Although she was well aware of the fact that they were just friends, in essence they had been married. They'd spent years hiding and playing the part of a couple. Having her on the table would be like having Diane or Ginger on the table; another ex-wife. Someone she would have to contend with. But that was all the better for the field agent. That meant she could sit on the table with Fornell, Stan, Will, Director Marrow and a few others.

The tables were covered in thick white table cloths which matched the white chair covers which had a wide ribbon tied around them in the same colour as the bridesmaids dressed. Jenny sat there, watching everyone after the meal and the speeches had been done with. Whilst they danced and flirted, and everyone else did the same. The room was boiling, and everything hurt too much in that moment. So she stood up and made her way to the closest set of doors and excited out onto the stone patio.

Outside the air had cooled down as evening fell on the city, and as the cold air hit her flushed skin, small goose bumps began to spread across her pale skin, whilst her face began to feel even warmer. Slowly, Jenny walked over to the barrier of stone and placed her hands down on the cold before taking a deep breath and holding it in for a while. Inside she was suffocating, the people all so happy and naïve, thinking that the marriage that had just taken place would last. And maybe she was bitter, and selfish, and she hated herself for being that way.

But at some point Jenny was pretty sure she had fallen in love with Gibbs, and it hurt, because part of her had thought that he felt something more for her. But he didn't _she'd_ been the naïve one, the one who had done the one thing she swore she'd never do. She'd let a man worm his way into her heart. And the stupid thing was that she had been blind to it.

Walking over to the steps, her heeled sandals clip clopped on the stones beneath her feet - the sound slightly audible over the muffled music that escaped the events room behind of her. The sound of soppy love songs that people were slow dancing to. Songs about a love that would last a lifetime - and something about everything being yellow. She wasn't even sure; in fact she'd been doing everything in her power not to listen since she'd been the only one at the table. Ducky had forced her to dance for a while, and she'd fooled about with Stan as she tried to dance with him, keeping his hand above her ass. She'd spoken to Marrow, and laughed with Fornell about the fact that he was dating Diane – a woman who had a serious issue with Jenny.

But now she was away from them all she felt a wave of relief. Slowly and cautiously she made her way down the path. Careful not to get her stiletto style heel caught in one of the gaps between the paving slabs underfoot. The heels gave a soft clip clopping sound, which as she moved away from the building became even more and more distinct as the music faded. The red head encountered another step and she stopped, sitting down on it and wrapping her arms around herself. The floor wasn't too cold after a day of the sun on it. But it was a shock to her body, yet a relief too. It gave her something else to think about.

Jenny's eyes scanned over the gardens, taking in the sight of the grass and trees, all ever so slightly dulled by the fading lights. She listened to the sound of the animals waking up, and falling asleep, as the trees rustled because the wind was blowing through them. Then her eyes made their way up to the sky, looking at the stars twinkling softly above. Her eyes subconsciously looked for the brightest star, and she thought back to the one that had lead Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem all those years ago. And as she thought about it, she wondered whether one day a bright star would lead her to someone who she could at least try and love a little bit.

But that was all dreams, things that she wanted and wished and hoped for. But in all honesty no longer believed in. She closed her eyes and felt the cold air brush against her skin and goose bumps raise. "You'll catch your death out here Jenny." She heard a voice say behind her. And the goose bumps rose again, although this time it was nothing to do with the cold. It was the voice talking, a voice she had spent ages listening to and laughing with. And whose wedding she was currently at. Someone, she had spent the entire day attempting to avoid.

"I could have caught my death any day in Europe." She replied. Although neither of them really spoke about what had happened when they were undercover, it still haunted them. Most people would look and think that it had just passed them by, like it was any other day. But that was how they wanted people to think. The truth was that it had scared them irrevocably. They had been left scarred in a way that nothing would ever quite manage to fix.

Gibbs walked down the path so that he was closer to him and shrugged off his suit jacket. She didn't know what he was doing until she felt the warmth of his jacket over her shoulders. Her arms touched the lapels and pulled it closer around her shivering body-

-She hadn't even realised that she was shivering.

As soon as she felt it around her she knew that it shouldn't be there. This was the kind of thing he should be doing to his wife not his partner. However the fact that she was surrounded, now, by the oh so familiar and comforting smell of coffee, bourbon and saw dust mellowed her. But it didn't stop her knowing it was wrong, even if it did feel good. "Shouldn't you be wrapping your jacket around your wife Jethro?" She said, desperately trying to keep any hint of bitterness from her voice.

"Steph won't mind Jenny, she knows how much you mean to me."

And those words hit her like a punch to the stomach. And in that moment, as she turned to look at the silver haired man beside her; and she memorised every feature. Every line of a day gone by, the things those bright cobalt eyes had seen. The hair that she had always loved, and never changed. Every part of his face she remembered, and she told herself that was what her bitterness could lose her. Stephanie was obviously willing to accept her presence, and Jenny decided that it was time to grow up. Because Jethro loved his wife, and she was being nothing short of childish.

"I want you to be happy Jethro." She said, with honesty. And he knew she meant it, the stars reflected in her eyes, and as she smiled he was reminded as he always was that he didn't want to lose her.

"I'm happy Jen." He said, not entirely true whether he was or not.

"Then so am I." And then Gibbs stood up, and left. But before he did she heard a chink as a glass touched the stone she was sat on. When she was sure he was gone, she looked down beside of her and smiled in thanks to the man who had walked away. Because there; was a glass of bourbon. A drink that tied them to their past in Paris, and that would tie them to their future whatever that may end up being.

Her long slender finger wrapped around the glass, and took a sniff of the whiskey before placing the glass to her lipstick clad lips. And as the burning liquid went down her thought she decided it was her time to leave. She'd said her piece and now Jenny Shepard had to get on with her life-

-or try at least.

Her silver heels clip clopped along the path. Leaving behind a lip stick stained tumbler, a perfume infused jacket, and a bittersweet memory that would forever be incomplete.

* * *

_Reviews welcomed!_


	2. Being the Boss

**Disclaimer **_NCIS is not mine_

**Authors note**_ Thanks for all of the support! It means a lot. The next couple of chapters JEnny acts a little weirdly, but because of the change she is confused. I'm not too happy with them but fingers crossed it will get better. So just bare with me please!_

* * *

_**Being the Boss**_

'_Monday morning heading back to work,  
Stuck in traffic going slow, Nothing on the radio,  
I don't wanna be another chore to check off on your list,  
Of things you gotta do and placed that you gotta go'  
-Lady Antebellum, Friday Night_

* * *

It was Monday.

The first day at work without Gibbs, and her first day of being in charge of kindergarten – joy!

Jenny sighed and walked into the empty room. Outside the sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon, and the clock had only just struck 0630. Yet there she was, in the abandoned bullpen, too much like her partner and mentor in her work ethic to be good to anyone's health. The windows and skylight barely lit up the room – only allowing the dull grey early morning light to splash un-satisfyingly into the room. The timer on the lights wasn't due to switch them on for a good hour yet. So for now, she would have to cope with the small artificial light that her desk lamp provided.

The red head dumped her unattractive, black, NCIS standard issue backpack carelessly down onto the ground before leaning over and flicking on the small switch on the base of her lamp to turn it on – the little use it did. Jenny skilfully un-holstered her firearm and badge from the waist of her olive coloured skinny jeans and placed it into the draw of her desk. The red head then tucked her white wrap blouse back into her jeans and sat down. Whilst she waited for her computer to log in, she played with the end of her fishtail plain absentmindedly. Her mind still occupied by the events of Gibbs wedding. The way he had danced, and she'd felt so pushed to one side. She wanted him to be happy, and that was the truth. She hoped to God that his honeymoon would go well. She hoped that his marriage – unlike the others – would for once last. After all, Stephanie was the best of what Jenny considered to be a bad bunch.

Meanwhile, her feet - clad in heeled tan brown brogues - tapped away to the beat of a song she faintly remembered hearing on the radio on the way over. As she did so, the red head continued to wait, cursing NCIS for not updating their prehistoric computer system. But her mind wasn't on the job, not today. Not when this was the beginning of a new era for her. Even when the Federal badge background appeared on her computer, she didn't do anything. Instead the agent just stared off into another world.

_Ping!_

The sound of an email notification brought her out of her daze, and she softly shook her head, trying to get herself back on topic. And stop her rambling thoughts from climbing a mountain that she was nowhere near ready to climb just yet. So, she moved her curser over and clicked on the new email. But it was just the NCIS news bulletin. And as she carelessly scrolled down the page, not even paying attention to the text informing her of how many offenders they'd caught, or what opps had been a success, and who was leaving.

_CONGRATULATIONS are in order to Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs on his marriage which took place this weekend. We all hope that _this one _works out for you. And enjoy you're honeymoon!_

If she had been reading it out loud, the words would have stuck in her throat. And although it was bittersweet, and she was pretty sure she had the right to feel that way, there was a sense of guilt about it. She'd spent the whole of his wedding wishing that she was somewhere else, that he wasn't getting married. Jealousy had corrupted her, and she'd turned into a woman that day, who had been no better than Diane. So, mentally head slapping herself in a way she knew her partner would be proud of, she closed the window.

Standing up, she walked over to his desk, took a deep breath and told herself to get on with work. Once she did that she was pretty sure that she would be okay. After all, the way she got through everything was by burying herself under work – just as she had done when her father died all those years ago. Jenny found his stack of paperwork – a considerably larger stack that she had expected – and took it over to her desk.

He was meant to have caught up on it all before he left. '_Meant' being the key word_. Jethro never did his paperwork unless he was faced with the ultimatum of paperwork Vs the FBI, or when he was married to Diane; paperwork would always beat going home. Which was generally why he let it rack up until he had Marrow breathing down his neck, and it seemed even that had not worked this time. So Jenny dumped it on her desk and got ready to wade through the mess.

She just hoped to God that someone would bring her coffee! Preferably Ducky as he actually knew her order, unlike Stan who kept handing her some sickly, caramel, froth that tasted like washing up liquid. But she hadn't had the heart to tell him yet. Having said that, if he brought her it today she may well just spit it out all over him.

* * *

Two hours later the read head cast the piercing green eyes over the top of the divider to see that he team mates had decided that they were actually going to turn up to work. Something she had doubted considerably when they were over an hour late. As she looked up she saw that whilst they weren't still in the clothes they had worn to the wedding – which she would not have been surprised to find them to be – they were, however, looking extremely hung-over. And the replacement team leader had to hide the smirk that appeared on her face at the sight of the black bags under their eyes.

"Morning." They both grumbled as they made their way over to their desks. William Decker placed a cup of coffee onto her desk as he did so, winking discretely as he did so. Simply because he knew what he order was, and had obviously stepped in front of Stan and got her coffee. His intuition telling him that after the wedding she would more likely than not be in a bad mood and a wrong coffee order may just push her off of the edge. It was something that she was more than a little thankful for.

"We've not got a case." She stated, after passing a grateful glance over to Decker for the coffee. "So get your paperwork done and I'll take it up to Marrows when I get Gibbs' done."

They both groaned, before turning their computers on and beginning to try and look like they were working. Although she knew for a fact that Stan was playing Tetris as for the first moment he had completely forgotten that his volume was not turned down on his computer. That had resulted in the game-like music filling the room.

As they got one with their work, her eyes fell on the vacant desk next to her. And part of her felt sentimental, but work was working, so she turned back to the paperwork and completed another case report. Because the work was officially Gibbs' she could not sign it, however after working with him so long she had learnt to forge his signature perfectly. Marrow had long since realised that the reports were not being done by Gibbs, however they were getting done which was a significant change. So he turned a blind eye to it.

* * *

Jenny placed her pen down on the desk, it was lunch time, and Stan and Will had left a good half hour ago. She didn't expect them back for another hour, Gibbs wasn't there to scare them so they were making the most of it – and no one blamed them. Out of all of the teams at NCIS, Gibbs' was the hardest working. They had the most cases, the fasted clean up rate, they had the longest days and were on rota more weekends than any other. So the fact that for the time whilst their boss was on honeymoon they were relaxing – no one really minded.

Standing up, she picked the empty coffee cup up and tossed it into the bin. Then she decided to go and see Ducky. It seemed like with the mass of cases they had had on the lead up to the wedding, she hadn't seen much of him. Then at the weekend she had basically done her best to avoid everyone. So she made her way down to autopsy.

It was ironic really, when she had first joined NCIS, it had been the place that she avoided like the plague. The thought of the coolness, the sterile smell and stainless steel tabled filling her with nothing less than dread. And yet now, she was heading to that place for solace, it had become a place of comfort and emotional warmth. Where she could leave behind all the titles she held. She wasn't viewed as an Agent, she wasn't known for being the Cornel's Daughter, or emotionally scarred red head. Instead she was just Jenny. Not Jen, the woman who was falling in love with her partner and mentor, or Jennifer, the lady corrupted by a vendetta.

The door opened with a _Swish _of the airlock loosening, and the cold air hit her forearms making the hairs stand up. Her captivating green eyes took in the bright room, and she smiled at the sight of empty tables meaning that Ducky had not 'visitors' that she could see. "Duck?" She said softly, as she walked further in.

"Coming my dear." A muffled voice replied as he exited the store room. His eyes lit up at the sight of her and he smiled softly. He was one of the closest things that she had to family, and since they'd started the mass undercover operation that spanned the majority of Europe, he'd been like a father to her. And even though she didn't want to exactly talk to him about what was going on in her head and heart – she wasn't even sure herself what she felt. But just being in his company would be everything that she needed. "Now what can I do for you?"

"Can we put the kettle on Ducky? I need a break from Gibbs' paperwork before I go mad." She stated, smiling lightly.

"I was just thinking that I'd enjoy some Mr Earl, take a seat my dear." And she did, her eye following as she emptied some loose tea leaves into the strainer and poring boiling water in. They were silent whilst he made the tea; then again it was almost their ritual to be so. She watched him make it expertly, the drink that she had never drank before meeting Ducky. Yet now she even had some at home, and it was her drink of choice whenever she felt down.

Soon there was a tea cup in front of her, the white china placed on a thin saucer. "Thank you." She said, wrapping her fingers around the warmth and watching as the steam rose in swirls above.

"Are you alright my dear?" He asked, concerned that she seemed a million to be away as she sat opposite him in the cold room.

"Yeah . . . yes Ducky I'm fine. I guess I'm just adapting."

"To the change between you and Jethro." It wasn't a question, but a statement. To the man who had watched them grow both in and before Europe, seeing one of them break away from the partnership in that way – he could understand just why she was upset. He'd never judge.

"I'm stupid I know . . . it's just . . . I've never loved anyone Ducky, I have no family but you guys. And even if it only was for our covers, he was my husband – we were married. And I guess . . . oh I don't know Ducky. It's just weird I suppose."

He leant over and took her hand, feeling like he was comforting the daughter that he had never had. "It's not stupid my dear – by no means. If things were the other way around, if you were getting married then he'd feel the same. Even if he didn't show it."

Jenny smiled at him, her eyes sparkling ever so slightly. "Thank you." She said, looking down, and drinking the remainder of her tea. They remained in silence until all that was left in both of their cups were small grains of tea that had snuck through the thin wire mesh of the tea strainer. She then smiled at him, and knew she had to go. "I still have a mound of Jethro's paperwork to get through." She stated.

"I'll see you again soon my dear." And with that she left.

Jenny walked out into the hall way, and sighed, it was time to get back to work. So she took the stairs and made her way up into the bullpen. But when she got to her desk she stopped dead at the second pile of paperwork, double the size of the first, which was sat on her desk. "What is that?!" She asked accusingly at the two guilty looking agents who had finally returned to their desks.

"Well if you're doing Gibbs' paperwork, then you may as well do it all." William Decker said, as though it were the simplest thing ever.

"Yeah, Gibbs' not yours!" She exclaimed as she sat down behind of her desk.

"That is Gibbs!" Stan said, completely and utterly unable to contain the laughter that was threatening to spill. Jenny looked doubtingly at the files and picked it up, and to her dismay he wasn't lying. She picked up another file, and another, and another – they were all Gibbs'. "Where on earth did you get all this from?!"

"His bottom draw." Decker said, smirking at the red head. "You didn't think that the stuff on his desk was all of it, did you?"

Jenny simply groaned and fell back into her chair. "How on earth does he get away with this?!" But no one answered, they were all simply shocked that she had just added it to the pile, and began to get on with the job. But the truth was they neither of them knew either. Somehow Gibbs just managed to get away with it. Stan and Will passed a look of raised eyebrows between one another and got on.

* * *

In the end it took Jenny until Thursday afternoon for her to finish the stack of Gibbs' paperwork. But that time, Stan and Will had already left their piles on the edge of the red heads desk so that she could take it all up in one go. So they had spent the remainder of the week supposedly working through cold cases. Although having said that, it had ended up taking them a whole day just to decide on one to focus on, and another to go collect all the evidence. So by the time Thursday came around, they had done pretty much nothing bar go over whiteness statements.

But in all honesty, she couldn't moan at them. Sure they messed about even when Gibbs was in the office, but when it came down to it their hearts were in the right places. When they got a case they cared, they'd lay down their lives for another without even giving a second thought. So although they were winding her up, unless they got a case she would turn a blind eye.

It was dark outside, the trees blowing ever so slightly in the breeze. The bright green leaves rustling against one another. The final signature had been forged and the boys had left to go home for the evening. She knew that Tom Marrow was still up in his office, the SecNav had only just left and his assistant was yet to be dismissed.

The red head leant forward and placed her chin onto her palms. She'd done true to her thoughts and buried herself in work. Not just doing her partners case reports and other paperwork, but also working with Stan and Will on the odd occasion that they actually did some work. So now, after four days it was beginning to take its toll. The agent was shattered, and more than a little fed up.

Standing up, she decided that she would take the files up the director, then go home and curl up in bed whilst waiting for sleep to capture her and let her relax in its arms. So, she picked up the large pile of brown NCIS 'Confidential' marked files, and walked up the stairs, the heels on her black t-bar shoes clip clopping on the small metal rim of steps. Her long legs were clad in black leggings, and she wore a dark teal blue blouse that was made with multiple layers of thin material, and a black leather collar. Her hair was left naturally in its curls, and Jenny wore minimal makeup – just mascara and her signature red lipstick.

And although from the outside she looked normal, she really was emotionally exhausted as well as physically. As she walked into the outer office, she saw that Marrow's secretary was on the phone to her husband whilst she packed away her things. Jenny caught her eye and smiled, showing her the files. And the woman just nodded, signalling her to go in as she continued on with her telephone conversation.

Jenny's pale hands opened the cold metal door, and she walked in, smiling as she saw Tom look up from his paperwork and over to her. He caught sight of the large pile of files in her hands, and he simply laughed. "I was wondering when I'd finally get that mound." And Jenny just laughed, making her way over to the solid wooden desk and placing the files down. When the red head was relieved of the weight she heaved a sigh. "I'd say thank you, but I think that is my weekend gone." He groaned softly.

"Well I apologise." The red head replied, a small smile on her face. "I think I'm the only one who didn't know the extent to the amount he had stashed away."

"I prefer ignorance. It's less of a pain in my butt." He said, and she smirked back at the Director. "Take a seat." He said, and she did so. Both of them lived for their work. They loved the job, but also were well aware of the toll it could take on your personal life. And so, at the chances they got, both were under no illusion that there weren't times when you should take a break.

The Director stood up, and walked over to the drinks cabinet, and poured them both a glass of whiskey from the cut crystal decanter that was at home in the office. "I know it's not that pain stripper that Gibbs has gotten you drinking, but it's not half bad." He stated as he passed her the crystal cut glass.

"Thanks." She said, taking a sip of the amber liquid. "Jack Daniels." Jenny stated, a small smirk passing over her face. "My father used to have this in his study; I'd drink it when he was away. I guess I have always had expensive taste."

"My father was a Brandy man." Tom said, making a face of disgust at the thought of it. "I nicked at bottle one night after a fight, and a few of us got smashed on it – never had a worse hang over in my life!" And they both laughed, it wasn't often you got to hear about an agent's life before they had first walked into the Agency. Most of them had friends in the office, but after they left that was it. Many of the agents had been in the forces prior to joining, so everyone knew that more often than not you avoided the mention of before. Everyone had parts of themselves they preferred to keep hidden from prying eyes.

"Brandy was as bad as swearing in my house." Jenny laughed, before taking another sip of the whiskey that was in her hand. A drink that held so many memories, in fact it was drinks which reminded her of those she had lost as oppose to places. As she looking around the room, she caught sight of the few pictures that he had up. In most of them he looked a lot younger, there were picture of him with other agents – ones she guessed he had worked in close quarters with, and pictured from parties. It was almost as though he was trying to cling on the people that he had met on his way up to the top.

"The job vacancy is still open Jenny." He said, and she looked away like the words had been fire to scald her with. Near the end of their undercover operation, Marrow had rung her with the offer of her own team, and after a week of consideration she'd said no. Deciding that she had family in Gibbs, and respected him too much to just up and leave.

"No." She said, softly before downing the last of her whiskey. Even if he had someone else now, he was still family. He was still the one who had turned her from the revenge fuelled, bitter child she had been into the woman who sat in her place.

"I don't know when the opportunity will arise again." He said, and it wasn't that he wanted Gibbs to lose her. It was the fact that Jenny was a damn good agent – one of the best – and he didn't want her to look back years from now, and resent the fact that she had chosen to stay. If she took the job then in less than a decade she would be sat in his seat. But he knew it was her choice, and by her saying no, it was a sign of strength, and something that he respected immensely.

"It's not what I want. Not anymore." And that was the truth. When she'd joined NCIS, it was the opportunity she would have loved. But back then she could never have even imagined that a job would turn into something that she cherished as much as she did. The job had given her something that was almost family now.

He looked at her, and he smiled softly. "Most people would jump at the chance Jenny."

"I guess I'm not most people." She said a small smirk on her face. _Most people would have done something about the fact they were falling in love with their partner. _

"You're certainly not Jenny." Tom said, noticing that she seemed a little broken. But he decided to put it down to Europe. After all, when you were so deeply undercover for such a long period of time, you didn't come back without any scars. And some would take a lot longer than a physical one to heal.

"I should go." She said standing up, and flashing him a smile. "Have fun with the paperwork."

"I'm sure it will be thrilling." They both laughed, and Jenny exited the office. It was nice to know that someone cared.

Deciding she needed sleep, the red head made her way down to her desk, grabbed her bag and keys, and looked around the dark bull pen. It was like the workings of a clock had stopped. Only a few agents were still in, and even they were beginning to pack away. Without the ever present Gibbs, it felt empty. So, sighing softly, she flicked the switch on her desk light and made her way towards the stairs. And Jenny made her way out of the building, it was time to relax – she deserved it after all.

* * *

It was just over a week later, on the Friday, that it dawned on her that Jethro was back. She hadn't realised until she was sat in her car ready to head home. They'd had a case since Monday – the double murder of two Marines who turned out to be best mates. Something they hadn't found out until half way through the case. But it turned out that one of them was dying, and the other had agreed to help him die. But after the other had gone, he couldn't bear to continue himself. The fact that both bodies were found miles apart, and that the friendship had begun in high school meant that it was hard to figure out.

But that morning Jenny had told both of the victims' parents and the case was closed. Now all the paperwork sat on Marrows desk and they were all heading out for drinks. It was a case that had touched them all, and as Jenny looked around the empty car park from the inside of her own car, she realised how much she respected both of the Marines. They obviously had a friendship stronger than most could ever imagine having.

It brought back memories from when she was younger. The redhead hadn't been popular in high school. Having a father who was a Cornel in the army meant that you didn't stay in one place long enough to make strong friendships. Generally she would spend her time in the library studying. But she'd had one friend, a friend who had been the only one to keep in touch through all of the years and every move she made.

But that friendship had become hard now. He was in the Marines and barely ever in the states, and when he was he was spending the time with his wife and their adoptive children. The last time he had been home she was undercover. She didn't know when she'd see him again – but he was the closest thing she had had to a best friend throughout most of her childhood and teenage years.

The red head sighed and put the keys in the engine before leaving the concrete car park that played host to NCIS cars. And as she did so, her thoughts went to Gibbs. She'd almost managed to stop sinking in self pity since they had a case, but now she was back where she had begun. Jenny drove, not even thinking about where. And before she even realised anything, she was pulled up opposite Gibbs' house.

Usually she'd be there most nights, and whenever she pulled up his basement light would be on – the only dull light from the otherwise dead house. But that wasn't the case that night. As she looked over towards the house in the evening darkness she saw that his basement lights were off, but instead his lounge light was on and so was his bedroom light. And up there, in his room she could see the silhouette of two people walking around.

They weren't arguing – there movements were too fluid for that. Instead they were obviously just unpacking. But when they merged into one, she looked away, and back at her own eyes in the rear view mirror. That was when she changed, mentally. Jenny head slapped her self and realised what she was becoming. He was happy, and surely that should be enough for her? She should be able to be happy for him?

In that moment Jenny stopped feeling sorry for herself, and left her heart there with him. So turning the key once more, she headed off home to dress to kill. This was the end of her feeling sorry for herself. From now on, if she couldn't have him, then she would simply let him see what he was missing out on.

* * *

An hour later Jenny Shepard walked into the bar that was just outside the Navy base. It was where they always went, often frequented by marines, and the sort of place that was comfortable for whatever you wanted. She'd gotten changed, out of the work clothes she'd been wearing, and was now dressed to pull – whilst remaining teasing.

As she walked in, she knew all eyes were on her – that was the idea after all. She wore a pair of stone was super skinny ripped jeans. The tears in the fabric went all the way up to just below her ass and left little to the imagination as they hugged her perfectly. Jenny had grabbed an old baggy white t-shirt which hung off one shoulder, giving a perfect view of her bra strap. On her feet she had bright red Anema style, platforms, with a metallic heel. Her makeup was light except for her signature red lips. The long red locks were swept messily up into a bun, showing off the diamonds in her ears. And finishing off with a handful of silver bangles around her wrists.

She spotted Stan and Will instantly, and they ordered her a drink. From the way their jaws were currently on the ground, she knew her outfit was doing what it was intended to do so. And as she walked over, she couldn't help but smirk. "Jeez!" Said Will, his collar suddenly feeling constricting.

"Fancy getting outta here Shep?" Stan asked a smirk on his face as he winked.

"Only in your dreams Burley." Jenny replied, smirking wildly. She was in the bar to pull, and her choices were good. Jenny also knew that come Monday morning one of the two agents would say something and it would not be long before Gibbs found out – and even if she didn't pull, she could make it seem like she had.

* * *

_Review? Sorry if you don't like it _


	3. You Chose This

**Disclaimer** _I don't own NCIS_

**Authors note **_Once more, this chapter shows Jenny being very highly strung and confused resulting in her strange behaviour. I hope you continue to enjoy and please review! :) _

* * *

_**You Chose This**_

'_Well, I'd rather start off slow  
This whole thing's like some sort of race  
Instead of winning what I want  
I'm sitting here in second place  
Because somewhere the one I wanna be with's, with somebody else'  
-Nickelback, Someone that you're with_

* * *

Once more Monday morning came back around, and to say there was a different mood in the bull pen was an understatement. Gibbs was back, sat at his desk and already annoyed with Will and Stan for the fact that they were already messing around. To add to his bad mood, the coffee girl had gotten his order wrong, and Stephanie had told him that they were having a meal with her parents at the weekend. So Gibbs was grumpy, and to make matters worse Jenny was apparently late.

However, she actually wasn't. It turned out that whilst she had turned down the job that Tom had offered her whilst they were still in Europe, he wanted her to be more than just Gibbs' probie. So that was why since 4am that morning she had been stuck in MTAC planning an op in Moscow. It was once more about the arms dealing community, and after her undercover work she had basically become NCIS' personal expert on the arms world. So that was why she was up there planning another op.

On a lighter note; her Friday night plan had worked, in fact it had worked very well – even if she knew she wanted nothing more than one night. She'd met a marine who was deploying today and wanted a bit of fun before he went. She hadn't left until Sunday morning, with the promise that when he got back they'd have some fun again. So, even though she was tired, and more than a little bored, she was still in a good mood.

She and Marrow stepped out of the dark room, a brown NCIS file in her arms marked 'HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL' in bright red stamped print. "I think we can get this to work." Said Tom as he looked at the red head stood in front of him. He'd never seen her plan something before, he'd not been massively involved in the Europe operation – that had been McAllister's doing, and as far as he knew Gibbs had been more in charge of it than she had. When it had all been set up she was barely more than a probie after all. But watching her work had been like watching a more polite and courteous Gibbs. She planned everything that would need to be taken into consideration, and did it with such precision, thinking of things that he would never in a million years have considered. In fact, the only thing he needed to decide on was who took part – but he already knew who he wanted there.

"Yeah, I don't see why not." She said, smiling softly as she brushed a stray piece of hair that hadn't managed to be tied into her ponytail behind her ear. She'd continued her 'make Gibbs see what he's missing' plan, but tamed it down for work, dressing in a navy blue shift dress that had a white collar on it. On her feet were the same red heals from Friday night and she had small pearls in her ears.

"Well done Jenny, now go see Gibbs." And with that he headed off towards his office. Feeling content, and not dreading his meeting with the SecNav as much as he previously had been. As she turned to make her way down the stairs she saw the man in question, squinting as he looked at his computer screen, and she felt a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. Sighing, she made her way downstairs. Jenny was pretty sure that Gibbs thought she wasn't in, so it would be interesting to see how this played out.

"Ahh, Shepard's been allowed to play in the big boys play area." Said William Decker as he smirked at her from across their division where he was sat. She just rolled her eyes playfully at his antics and walked over to her desk, briefly glancing at Gibbs as she did so. Noticing that he didn't look any browner, bu he also didn't look about to kill someone – well, other than her at least.

"Jealous Will?" She asked him, effectively silencing the agent as he decided that he should probably set about getting to work. Jenny turned around with a content smile on her face and placed the file she'd been carrying in the top draw of her desk, and locked it. The last thing she wanted was Gibbs seeing it, which would then result in a lecture about how she was putting herself in harm's way or something. Whilst he tried to act like an over protective father- or husband?

"By the way Jenny, how did that guy do on Friday night? You seem a little tired." Stan said, smirking at the red head who glared back at him. However, her plan was working, and she could feel Gibbs' eyes drilling holes in her at the thought of what she had been doing. Jenny made herself blush furiously, another talent she had managed to master over the years.

"Stan, you wouldn't believe it." She said, smirking, and not lying in the slightest – it _had _been a good night. "I didn't get home until Sunday." The agents all looked at her, like she'd admitted her sin. It was normal for the men to talk about their sex lives, after all ninety percent of the conversations she overheard in the break room were boasting. But they were used to the women being more reserved, which made Jenny smirk – because they had obviously forgotten that she wasn't most women.

Whilst she let them stew, she grabbed her gun, jacket and bag before heading out of the divider. But she had forgotten just how in tune Gibbs was with his surroundings. "Where do you think you're going Shepard?" He growled from behind his desk. 'Shepard' he hadn't called her that since before the first op. And it kind of hurt a little, but it also showed that her plan was working. Because she had obviously got under his skin enough to annoy him.

"For coffee." She replied, smirking ever so slightly as she headed off. But he shouted after her, making her stop and spin on her metallic heal so that she was looking at him.

"Like hell you are, you've only been here two minutes." Gibbs said, standing up from where he was sat. Stan and Will eyed each other, it was a long time since the two partners had argued. When Jenny had first arrived Will had been around to see them, but Stan hadn't. So the lesser experienced agent found it amusing, but anyone who had been there originally began to groan. Their arguments had been renowned, in fact the whole agency had known when they argued.

"Actually Gibbs, I've been here since 0400. And seeming as I didn't sleep much over the weekend, it's either I get coffee or fall asleep at my desk – take your pick." And with that she once again spun on her heel and headed off towards the stairs, ready to go and get the drink that was more like an IV drip to the red head.

Stand couldn't help but fail to mask his laughter at Jenny's comment, but Will just groaned, before turning to his computer to get on with his work, knowing that Gibbs was now going to be in a foul mood for the rest of the day. And if things continued then he may just end up quitting – because his life would end up being nothing short of hell.

Burley was still laughing when Gibbs stood up to go and speak to Ducky, and that was why he ended up with a head slap to kick all head slaps in the ass. Gibbs then stormed off whilst the other agent rubbed the back of his head, squinting through the pain. "What the heck got into him?! That really hurt!" He exclaimed, still rubbing his head.

Will turned to look at the other agent and felt a little sorry for him – not that he would ever admit that though. "Looks like it's all about to start again." He muttered, before opening his emails and warning the rest of headquarters to keep their heads down. Back when arguments had been a daily occurrence, every time one kicked off, an email would be sent around, telling everyone to avoid the bull pen. It wasn't long, of course, until the Director found out where everyone went when an argument kicked off. So he soon cornered Decker, who told him the truth. And that was when his name got added to the email list.

When they fell out with another agent though, they got removed from the list, which almost guaranteed that they would walk in on one, and end up with a head slap which mirrored the one Stan was experiencing. But after the op in Marseille, something changed. Many thought that it was because they had slept together – but Will knew now that they hadn't. No one knew the truth behind what had happened that changed things, and they were all pretty sure that no one ever would. But they were thankful that they had stopped.

Until now though – it seemed.

* * *

It was about a week later when Gibbs was called up the Directors office. Everyone had left for the night – even Jenny. Most of them were heading out for a take away or something which would no doubt end in either food poisoning or a hangover. He'd been invited of course, but he had Stephanie at home – waiting loyally for him. He'd leave soon though, as soon as he had taken the case file up to the Director. He'd noticed how all of his paperwork had been done, and he knew who had done it. Jethro just hadn't managed to talk to her since.

The arguments had started up again, and where as last time it was both of them picking them, this time around it seemed to just be him. Every chance he got he was biting her for something. Gibbs didn't know why the fact that she had slept with a man that wasn't him bothered him so much, after all he was the one who had gone and gotten married. But it did, and he couldn't help it. So at every chance he'd been arguing with her, and he hadn't a clue why. Whether it was the fact that her outfits seamed to look so damn hot at the moment, or that she was just rubbing him the wrong way.

Jenny had been spending more time in MTAC, and if he was honest he felt like he knew he would lose her to some other job. Maybe he was making distance so that when the time came it didn't hurt as much?

-Whatever the reason, he knew he was being an ass.

Running a tired hand down his face he stood up, grabbed the brown NCIS file and made his way up the stairs to the office. Tom's assistant had gone, so he just walked in – not knocking as per usual. The director looked not the slightest bit bothered by the agent's entry – he was used to it, Franks had acted almost the same.

"The case report." Gibbs stated, placing it on his desk, before heading for the door, only to be stopped before he left.

"I need to talk to you." Tom said, looking up from his paperwork and nodding to one of the chairs. Gibbs closed the door, and moved over to the seats which were positioned opposite the Director. "How was your honeymoon?"

"Well she didn't threaten to kill me – so it was better than last time." Gibbs stated referring to his honeymoon with Diane. He watched as Tom smirked. Back when he was married to Diane, there were numerous times that his marital arguments had spewed into NCIS. Mainly because she was set on the fact Gibbs and Jenny were having an affair. So much that she came into NCIS when they were on the weekend shift to make sure that they actually were.

"Well, that is _always _helpful." Tom Said, but he could tell Gibbs was itching to ask what he was really wanting to talk about. So the director decided to end the phatic talk, and get one with what he really wanted to ask. "Do you think that Jenny would cope with another deep cover op?"

Gibbs was taken aback, he'd thought that Jenny had been sorting out many things – even training agents had passed through his mind. But not for a minute had he thought she was helping plan another op. And as he thought about the question, he realised that part of his wanted to say no, just because he didn't want to risk losing her. But he knew she would cope. Sure it had been hard undercover, and there had been moments when neither of them thought that they could continue, but if she had a lead role in the cover, he knew she'd thrive. "Yeah, I think she would." He said, even though he didn't want to.

"What about if she was alone?" he asked. And that had Gibbs wanting to turn into the Hulk. Sending her undercover as part of a team was one thing; but sending her alone – he wasn't even going to consider that. He cared too much about his red headed partner to let her go undercover on her own – no matter how bigger back up team she had.

"You can't be serious?!"

"It would be under the same alias as when you two were undercover. Only sending you in as well is not a good idea. First you're married now which causes a heck of a load more issues, all we need is someone to catch sight of a picture and it is all over. Second, you were prominent in bringing the Russians down. Their business if broke now – which is good. But they will be too weary of you."

"You asked her?" Gibbs jumped in. Almost going mad, the people they had been after last time were awful, and the mission had been even worse. Going in alone may just break her.

"Yeah, she knows I want her in the role. She almost volunteered herself for it."

"So why are you me Tom?" Gibbs questioned, confused that if the Director already had his answer, then why he was being consulted.

"Well you do know her best Gibbs, wanted to check you think she would cope."

"She can damn well make her own decisions." And with that the silver haired man stood up and left the office, slamming the door heavily behind him as he did so. Tom sighed, he had heard about the arguments, in fact he had _heard _a few from up in his office. But it was only now that he could see just how much things had changed. And as he sat back in his chair, he groaned, there was absolutely nothing that he could do to help.

* * *

He walked in, slamming the door behind him. Forgetting he no longer lived alone, and that Stephanie was in the kitchen, he went straight down to the basement. Grabbing his slightly dusty bottle of Bourbon and pouring a healthy amount into a mason jar – not even wiping it first. He had downed it in one by the time Stephanie stood at the top of the stairs, looking worried. "Dammit Jenny!" He cursed under his breath, not realising that his wife was stood there.

"What's going on Jethro?" She asked concern in her voice as she watched her husband chuck a load of nails hap hazardously onto the concrete floor. He screwed his eyes up, trying not to bite her head off, knowing it was too early to wreck his marriage.

"Nothing." He answered, sighing loudly to himself.

"You lie to me Gibbs, and this marriage will be over before you can drink another glass of bourbon!" She said, as she began to walk down the stairs. Gibbs mentally shook himself and walked over to her, meeting the red head at the bottom of the stairs so she didn't hurt her sock glad feet. "So?" She asked, but her reply was him kissing her softly.

"Just work."

"Well it's obviously not _just _work."

"What's for tea?" He asked, she eyed him knowingly, letting him be warned that this wasn't the end of the conversation. But with that she took his hand and led him upstairs.

"Pasta okay?" She asked, trying to add some normality into their lives. And although they spoke over the meal, Stephanie was not stupid, she knew that he had something else on his mind. But she also knew that prying would only cause more issues, so she decided to leave it for the time being.

* * *

The next day, Jenny and Gibbs stood in the lift, heading back up to the bullpen after going to see Ducky about their latest case. Silence spread out between them, the tension could be cut with a knife, neither one looked at the other. Then just as they were about to get to the bull pen he flicked the emergency switch. And Jenny just rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what was to come. "I'm surprised you waited so long. So, what's up boss?" She asked. Gibbs internally cringed at her calling him 'boss'. She hadn't done that in a very long time.

"When were ya going to tell me you were planning on going undercover in Moscow?" He asked accusingly. She just sighed, knowing that she should have expected Marrow to talk to him about it, after all he was still her partner.

"How about when I got a formal offer? Would that have been a good enough time?" She asked; just as accusingly as he had done so. Jenny watched as the anger flared in him, but she didn't care. He'd been a pain in her ass as of late, so it was about time he got a taste of his own medicine.

"How about when you first found out Jenny? You're gonna get yourself killed going in there alone!"

"Oh have some faith in me Gibbs; I'm not your damn probie anymore!" She shouted back at him.

"No? Then stop acting like you are!"

Jenny rose her eyebrows, shocked at his words. "Excuse me; you're the one acting like a damn child! I did you're damn job for two weeks, and I did it well!"

"If you were that good then why are you still working on my team?"

"Because I turned down my own, _thinking_ that we were maybe friends Gibbs."

"Way to act like a friend Shepard? Keeping secrets!"

"I was going to tell you!"

"Cause you were Jenny."

"I'm not attached at your hip Jethro! I have my own damn life!"

"Yeah, flaunting your sex life in the bull pen – damn mature."

She had to stop herself punching him for a moment; her lips were clenched in a straight line. Then she said something that she knew she would regret. "Why shouldn't I? I'm your partner after all, not you're flaming wife!"

"That what this is about Jen? Showing that you don't need me anymore? Well maybe you should try going off on your own."

"You think I wouldn't cope?"

"I think you're too immature."

Jenny flicked the switch, and the doors almost immediately opened, scoffing as she walked out of the lift. "Well let's see shall we?"

"Fine by me." He replied, both of them pacing to their desks.

Turning to look at him, she slapped him, and he looked at her, shocked. "Just remember, _Agent _Gibbs, you chose this." And with that she headed up to the Directors office to tell him she would do the op. And she would happily do it alone.


	4. Semper Fi

**Disclaimer : **_NCIS is not mine_

* * *

_**Semper Fi**_

'_This is my temporary home, it's not where I belong__  
__Windows and rooms that I'm passing through__  
__This was just a stop on the way to where I'm going__  
__I'm not afraid because I know this was my temporary home'  
-Carrie Underwood, Temporary Home_

* * *

Weeks became months.

Summer passed them by, and autumn was on the doorstep.

Everything had carried on perfectly where planning the op in Moscow was concerned. In fact, it was now just a few weeks before she would be flying out there, ready to play her part in catching one of the main players in the European arms dealing ring. In fact, they were so close that she had already begun to buy the clothes she would wear when undercover, told Noami to have the time off, and had her first health check in with Ducky.

It was all falling into place perfectly.

And then there was Gibbs. They had barely spoken since she slapped him, and when they did it was just more arguments. However the silver hared fox had partially gotten his own way when it came to her mission. He was to fly out to Moscow a few weeks after her, and stay in a cottage with Stephanie. They wouldn't be involved in the mission, but 1) it had shut him up and 2) it meant that he was on call if she needed any assistance. Even if he was well aware of the fat she would rather kill herself than ask for it.

The SecNav had been much happier with this arrangement, and it suited everyone. But then Marrow had realised just how cracked their relationship had actually come, and just how close to breaking it was at the moment. Which had them all worried as to how effectively they would be able to work together, especially when the last time their covers had been active they'd been the best of friends. Jenny and Gibbs had been a couple in their cover last time, and as they were using the same alias' they had to find a way not to be this time considering he was bringing his wife.

Jenny's alias was that of a well to do french girl, the daughter of an American Army Cornal and a French maid – both of whom were now deceased. That was where she got her contacts for arms dealing from. The red head was fluent in French, and her accent was spot on. The only floor in her cover was that she spoke no Russian and therefore knew that her time in Russia was likely to be lonely. Gibbs had been the high school dropout who had had an eye for a bargain. He'd fallen on the wrong side of the law and gradually – expertly – gained a reputation. His mother was a woman who had fled Russia at a young age and a father who had been a low ranking naval officer – once more both were deceased. And that allowed for Gibbs to have had only mediocre French and fluent Russian. All in all it had made them a perfect pair for the last op.

The updated cover was; Jenny had gotten bored of being his second in command – Gibbs had played the part of being extremely chauvinistic bordering on misogynistic perfectly - after he'd screwed up with the Russians (they got arrested by European authorities following the op and once all operatives were safely extradited), she'd abandoned a sinking ship, choosing to start her own business instead. So she'd broken up with Gibbs – it was all designed to allow their frosty relationship in reality not to damage the cover.

Primarily she was going to be on her own for the duration of the operation - that was something that she didn't mind in the slightest. Although it was going to be hard it would mean she would be free to do what needed to be done to make it successful. Jenny was more relieved that she was not going to be having anyone breathing down her neck and telling her how to do it.

* * *

Jenny Shepard sat on the roof of NCIS. She'd taken the fire escape up – not wanting to be around anyone - and worked the lock so that she didn't set any alarms off in the process. She'd only discovered this place a couple of weeks ago after yet another fight with her partner, but it already felt like the only place she could think in the building. Up on the roof it was away from the chaos of her life, of her job, away from everyone who expected something of her. Here, she could watch over all those people, see how they were acting, watch as people fell in and out of love, went about their day to day life. Meanwhile forgetting the troubles she herself was experiencing.

Jenny's ponytail blew backwards, the wind carrying it along with it on its journey just as it did with the teal scarf draped around her neck. She was sat with her arms wrapped around her long chino clad legs, the thin white blouse she wore, covered by her tan leather jacket in and attempt to try and keep her warm whilst her feet showed a second splash of colour in teal brogues. The whole ensemble was elegant, and although in the back of her mind she still had a nagging voice telling her to tell Gibbs what he was missing, she was back in emotional turmoil.

Since he had tied the knot she'd gone through every emotion known to man, acted like a liar, a friend, an ex-wife, and now . . . she had been acting simply jealous. The truth was that Jenny didn't know how to act, because she didn't know what role she fitted into. Truth be told she didn't what role she had fitted into before. When he wasn't married there was nothing stopping their gentle flirting, the late nights spent up late talking. They hadn't had to worry what people thought, or if they chose to gossip about them being a couple – because it was harmless scuttlebutt. Now though, everything was completely different, and as Jenny sat up on the roof, it felt like a light switch went on in her brain.

It was time to grow up, because her behaviour could be summed up in one word: immature.

Lifting her face up slightly she closed her eyes so that the wind pushed against her face, causing her cheeks to flush with cold and make her eyes want to water ever so much. Sighing to herself she realised that now her role was as his friend, as his partner. That she would respect his decisions, because if the roles were reversed then he would not be acting this way.

It was time to stop the games and get on with life. When she went out to Moscow she wanted to know that he would have her back. But Jenny knew that in the last few weeks especially a lot of damage had been done, and it was not something that was going to be repaired overnight. It would take a long time. Because when they had argued, the slap she'd dealt him wasn't the worse thing. What was worse than that were the things they'd dragged up. After all they knew one another so well that they knew which buttons to push to hurt one another.

"Jennifer my dear, I think they're about to send out a search party down there. Jethro is throwing a fit." Said a softly Scottish voice from beside of her. The red head smirked at the doctor behind her, smiling at the way his own hair was blowing over his face as he made his way over to talk to her. Slowly sitting down beside the agent. Ducky sat there, his red bowtie signature to him just as much as his long stories. "He's scared." The Scotsman said, casting his glance over to look at her.

Jenny stayed looking forwards; if she turned to Ducky she wasn't sure what her tumultuous emotions would do next. "So am I." And it was the first time she had openly admitted it. "If you tell him that though I'll kill you Ducky."

"I wouldn't dare. But you need to talk to him, Jethro still sees you as his probie – even if you're not. He's terrified that without him being there, if everything goes south he might lose you."

"I can look after myself." She stated, trying as hard as she could to sound like she truly mean what she was saying. Even if Jenny was casually beginning to doubt it herself, she'd never done anything like this op in her life before. She'd always had him by her side – protecting her.

"You and I both know that is not what this is about my dear." He said and watched as she nodded, letting her eyes close slowly once more. Taking deep breaths as she thought about everything that was to come.

"I . . . I don't want-"She let herself take another deep breath, not knowing what she was about to say. "I never wanted it to get this far Duck, I was just annoyed and confused . . . I guess I still am. But now I get that I've been out of order."

"Don't blame yourself Jennifer; it's not _all _your fault."

"No, no I know." She said, and with that he stood up, groaning slightly at his joints. "Can you please find somewhere slightly warmer and comfier to hide next time – I'm getting too old for this." Jenny softly laughed, promising him she would return to her job in a moment. Ducky left her after that and she stood up, looking down on the Navy Yard. She'd go and see Jethro that evening, and she'd say what needed to be said. For now though she had better go and find her team before the man who plagued her thoughts actually murdered some poor innocent probie.

* * *

"Where have you been?" his voice was harsh, accusing and she hadn't even stepped into the divider yet. Gibbs saw the way her cheeks were flushed and hair was a little windswept with wisps escaping the restraint of the band containing it all behind her head. He guessed she'd been outside, especially considering that she had grabbed her coat before she left. As he looked at her he saw pure exhaustion, a woman who he had been constantly been arguing with him whilst trying to be so many things and do so many jobs.

"Needed some air, I'm back now." She said softly before sitting down at her desk to get on with some work. She wiggled her mouse and shrugged off her jacket before grabbing the file in front of her and scanning over it once more as she familiarised herself with the case they were working. Jenny sat there and could feel the eyes of her partner on her, but she ignored them. She was tired and worn out, emotionally and physically.

But when Stan knew that Gibbs was occupied, he and Will both glared at the red head, concern written over their faces. Jenny felt their eyes on her and lifted her eyes slightly, the concern made her heart swell, and she just gave them what she hoped was a reassuring smile. But in reality it just seemed a little empty to the observers. "Shepard." Jenny looked up from her desk to see the director and she just nodded, knowing it would no doubt be about the op she was about to be sent on. So she picked up the sheet of paper that held all of her notes and passed it over to Will to present to Gibbs when he asked. At least that might make him a little more civil. Jenny then began to walk to the stairs, feeling Gibbs' judgemental eyes on her for the whole time.

"Sir?" She asked the slightly greying Director as she stood opposite him. She'd been spending all of her free time sorting out for the op. She had been learning her cover, practicing her already perfect French and going over plans for the millionth time. Just in case something happened and it was all brought forward.

"SecNav is on the line. Can Gibbs spare you?"

"Well I can certainly spare him." She mumbled, choosing instead to just walk into MTAC, the darkness that filled the room a welcome relief from being in the spotlight. And below in the bullpen, as Gibbs watched her walk away. He hated the arguments, he hated the way they were always trying to hurt the other, the way that everything had turned sour. He knew that he was just as much responsible as she was. Maybe he was even more?

* * *

Jenny didn't leave MTAC until late that evening, it was gone seven and Gibbs had left the bullpen. Something that would have been completely out of the ordinary at one point in time, but that now was just another day. Because Gibbs frequently left earlier to go and see his wife – something Jenny had never witnessed happening with Diane. So as she walked out into the dusk bullpen she felt alone. The op was being brought forward to next week – something that had made her stomach knot up with worry inside. Gibbs would be flying out on the date she was originally meant to do so.

So Jenny Shepard would become Julietta De Sauveterre in just over a week. And that was a daunting thought - especially when there would be no Jethro beside of her.

The red head walked down to her desk, and grabbed her jacket deciding that it was time to go and face reality and speak to Jethro. So once she had turned her light off she made her way out. The whole time, beginning to realise just how much everything was about to change.

* * *

It wasn't like the old days, Jenny couldn't just walk straight in without a second thought. And that was something it would take a very long time to get used to. There was another woman in the house, and it wouldn't all be dark. So Jenny stopped herself and knocked on the door, standing there and feeling slightly awkward. She hadn't really seen Stephanie since the day of the wedding, and even then she had attempted to avoid her at all costs. The door opened and Jenny plastered on a smile as Stephanie appeared. "Jenny? What a surprise we weren't expecting you!" The other red head said.

"Yeah, sorry I'm a bit impromptu, I need to speak to Jethro I'm afraid." She said smiling and walking in as Stephanie signalled for her to.

"Maybe you can get him out of this terrible mood! Half of me thinks it's about Moscow – I mean he'd bound to be stressed - but I'm just not sure!"

"I'm afraid that it's me." Jenny said a little light-heartedly.

"Oh I'm sure it's not! I'm looking forward to Moscow, I hear it's beautiful in the spring – if we're there for that long."

"Personally I'm hoping we're not, but it is meant to be beautiful." Jenny said, the thought of being there for that long turning her stomach. Her plan was to be in and out as quickly and cleanly as humanly possible.

"Oh of course! Sorry I forget it's not a holiday. Anyway, he's in the basement, take yourself down."

"Thanks." Jenny said before heading down the rickety stairs. It was dark down there and her senses were almost immediately captured by the iconic smell of bourbon and sawdust that filled the room. It was a smell that brought back so many memories of evenings spend down in this dark room putting the world to right. And it broke her heart to think that she couldn't even turn his head away from his boat anymore.

"Thought I heard someone." He said, not looking at her but walking over and downing the rest of his bourbon before refilling that and a second mason jar. Jenny didn't wait to be offered; she just walked over and took it before perching on the edge of his work surface. They remained silent, and she drank the whiskey – relishing the burn at the back of her throat. When nearly five minutes had passed she knew she had to say something.

"The op had been brought forwards, I leave next week." She said, watching as the muscles under his t-shirt went rigid at the thought. And that was precisely what told her he still cared. After everything that had happened and been said he still was scared of her going alone.

"We'll manage." He said, not sure whether or not he was meant to be nice or if an argument was brewing. But he knew she wasn't telling him because of the team but because she wanted to meant things. However his stubborn pride was not budging.

"It's not you I'm worrying about." She said, but neither replied. "Jethro . . . I-" And without breaking one of his rules she couldn't do anything. Jenny no longer held the power that was required to repair the significantly large crack that was residing in their relationship.

"What happened Jen?" And the nickname made her want to cry. He hadn't called her that in such a long time now. "I come back to work and you're just like ice. You're cold and –"

"You came back and expected everything to be the same? Hell Jethro how could everything be the same? You are married, and not two minutes after Paris!"

"Nothing happened in Parish Jenny!" And he watched her look away. Jethro realised then how wrong he was. Nothing physical had happened, but emotionally he realised he must have been blind. "Is that what this is about?"

"No Jethro, this is about me going on the op early." She lied – blatantly. And he just acknowledged it. Watching as she downed the remainder of her bourbon.

"Well then, if that is it then everything is fine." He said and she just nodded, placing her mason jar back down on the wooden plank she was sitting on.

"Good." She said, but she was just as aware as he was that everything was far from fine. "You're flying out earlier too, so you might want to tell Stephanie – I'm sure she has shopping to do."

"You'll be alright." And Jenny wasn't sure what he was talking about, because there were so many things that in that moment she was far from alright with. But they were obviously things to be dealt with on another day. One when there wasn't a wife upstairs listening or an op on both of their minds. So she answered with yet another lie.

"I always am." And with that they both turned to look up as Stephanie stood there waiting to ask a question.

"Jenny would you like to stay for something to eat?" But she knew that wasn't her place – once upon a time maybe, but not now. So she politely declined and the woman went back into the kitchen. His partner then stood up and made her way over to the stairs, but his words stopped her.

"I'll have your six Jenny." And as she fought against the tears of fear about to cascade down her face, she responded in a barely audible whisper.

"Semper fi." And with that she left the house, and Gibbs, and in a week she would leave the life she had. Everything was about to change, and yet all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and got back to a time when things were so very much simpler.

A time when she knew just where she stood.


	5. Turning Heads

**Disclaimer** _NCIS is not mine_

**Authors note** _I'm so sorry for the delay, college is really leaving me very little time to write. However i hope you like this chapter, and i'll try and update more soon. _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_**Turning Heads**_

'_There're angels watching over me, they're here to shield you,  
So you don't yield to the devil, when your soul gets weak,  
But they're hard to hear when you're jamming gears.  
And they're always hanging back,  
__If they wanna save me, they better step on the gas.'_

_-Eric Church, Faster Than my Angels can Fly_

* * *

She walked off of the flight desperately attempting to walk with her head held high with confidence. She'd booked about seven or eight flights into Moscow, all departing from a range of different airports just to cover her tracks. The flights were in the name of Julietta De Sauveterre; Jenny Shepard had not left America. The NCIS agent had been left back at her brownstone last night. She'd been left in the squad room after she had said her goodbyes. A hug for Will, and the look that told her he was there for her. William Decker was one of the best that side of the Atlantic when it came to overlooking Covert Operations and not getting seen. Jenny was pretty sure that he would know more about just what she was doing that she herself would know. And although it was a slightly strange thing, it was reassuring. Knowing that someone had her back, someone with whom her relationship was not on scarily thin ice.

Jenny Shepard had been left in the bullpen of NCIS headquarters as she chased after Stan Burley – like two high school children or a bickering brother and sister. He'd stolen her passport and had been dead set on flaunting the typically terrible picture to the entirety of NCIS. However the entire of NCIS had simply consisted a few agents sat finishing work at their desks, most of whom had simply laughed at their antics and rolled their eyes as oppose to sneaking a peak at the troublesome picture. But after she'd tacked him to the floor and retrieved the object that was causing such mayhem, they'd sort of locked eyes – Jenny wasn't entirely sure how to describe it – they'd just . . . had a look. Like the way she was able to have a conversation with Gibbs without speaking, they just looked at each other and knew that they cared about one another. That whatever happened, their arms would be open, and there would still be a place in their hearts.

Jenny Shepard, the agent, the partner . . . the pain in her boss' ass had been left looking awkwardly at the man who had always been beside her side. The man who had always supported her and guided her through the storms so that she became the woman who stood opposite him - not knowing what to say or how to act. As it turned out, for once Gibbs made the first move, he just hugged her, and she buried her scared face in the crook of his neck. She let the smell of coffee; sawdust and his cologne assault her senses, and relax her body. Jenny then pulled back and looked at him, and he just mimicked the words she had said to him not even a week ago, and it was all she needed to hear to know that when she came back they may just be able to repair the damage the last few months had caused. "Semper fi."

* * *

Her hair was almost dead straight, with just the ends curled under ever so slightly and the feathered sides framing her face. Her makeup was heavier than that of Jenny Shepard, and she'd tried to revert back to her old style, the style she had created for Julietta De Sauveterre back with Gibbs in what now seemed like the comfort of Paris. But at the same time, she knew that the odd change would just show how her alias had changed – just as the woman playing her had done so. The red head had her eyes lashes covered with mascara and lids with grey shadow. Her lips were covered in a dark pink lipstick that tasted softly of strawberries. Jenny wore skinny legged black trousers, a deep pink blouse which was tucked in and black suede Louboutin boots. Her coat was a light camel coloured, thick woollen trench coat with a belt; the whole ensemble was sophisticated and had an air of money. It was just the look she had wanted. Mixing the French chic of Julietta's heritage with the American sophistication that came with her job.

The red head walked over to the small coffee shot she spotted, carrying a large pale pink overnight bag over her shoulder. Jenny was to be staying in a small apartment in the city, one which was secure, had large open rooms, views over the river and was modern. The whole thing screamed understated wealth – just what she wanted. Some of her clothes and things had already been moved in, she just held the few remaining items with her. She smiled at the man behind the counter but his face remained expressionless. "Un Café, s'il vous plait." She said, smiling before slipping into an accented English to clarify her order. "Désolé, a coffee please." The man behind the counter nodded, and she smiled once more before handing over the money and taking the cardboard cup and walking away.

It scared her ever so slightly when she realised how easily she had slipped into the role. How easily and seamlessly she had slipped out of living as Jennifer Shepard and become Julietta. It made her wonder how much of Jenny Shepard she had never regained after going undercover the first time around with Jethro. Wondered if there was a piece of that woman who had been left in a hotel room somewhere is Paris, waiting to be reclaimed.

The red head pushed the thoughts from her mind and slipped into the back of one of the taxis which were waiting outside of the airport in order to get trade. She smiled politely at the driver before telling him the street that she needed. "Moskvoretskaya nab, please." Her Russian was more than a little rusty, which considering it had never been good caused her great surprise when he actually understood where she wanted to go. The only advantage with Russia was that most places spoke reasonable good English, and those that didn't would understand a mixture of English, French and random hand movements as she tried to explain what she wanted.

Sitting in the back of the old car as it drove manically through the streets, she watched out of her window as the city passed her by. The weather was wet, the streets were dark, and it was absolutely freezing! As Jenny watched all she wanted to do was go home, suddenly it dawned on her just what she had let herself in for. When Stephanie had said how beautiful Moscow was meant to be in the spring, Jenny had just brushed the comment off. But that had been how she had been last time around, meanwhile Gibbs had done the worrying – after all she'd only been the lover of one of the main players, she hadn't been the player.

This time around it was her freaking out, and yet she had no one to distract her.

* * *

Jenny got out of the taxi and paid the money, as soon as she had removed her arm he was gone, and she was left standing there opposite the river. On the other side the rest of the city spread out. The water took on the colour of the grey sky, the building that looked like toy town across from her held little colour either. She was pretty sure the entire scene could be created from one palette of colour. Taking a very deep breath of the bitter air, she fished the key out of one of the pockets in her bag, and as she made her way up to the apartment she felt just numb.

Stepping into the apartment she placed the keys on the nearest surface and closed the door behind her. The place was reasonably open plan. As you walked through to door you walked into the main large space, the kitchen on the left and then there was the living room to the front. It was painted in a very pale pastel lemon. The furniture consisted of primarily white washed wood in the living area, the seats were covered in a coral like colour and the whole collection had a sense of French grandeur. The kitchen cupboards were once more whitewashed, but the working top was a stained hard wood. Jenny thought it looked a lot better than some of the places they had stayed in last time around. But it was cold.

She walked over to the thermostat and turned it up before grabbing her bag and taking it to her bedroom which was decorated in the same colours. And as she sat down on the bed she looked around the room, it felt dark and cold . . . pretty much like the city she was in. Her stomach churned with nerves, and all she could do not to run away was try and occupy herself. So she began to unpack, taking each individual item out of her bag and placing them all into their specific draws and hangers.

It wasn't long before she was finished though, after all most of her items had been bought for her and placed in the room. A few of the clothes she gave a distasteful look to – short skirts and clingy dresses. But she wouldn't throw them away – who knew what hand she was about to be dealt; It was all still up in the air.

The red head then walked into her kitchen and flicked on the kettle, deciding to make some coffee – and mentally praising Decker for the decent coffee that was in one of the cupboards. And once she was sat down on of the surprisingly comfortable sofas she mentally planned out what she was to do next. Jenny wasn't one for sitting back and doing nothing, so it was time to get started, and get her presence recognised – it was time to make a stir in Moscow.

* * *

"Will I need some clothes for spring summer? Or should I just pack for winter and buy things over there?" Stephanie asked as she walked to the top of the basement stairs with a pile of freshly ironed clothes in her arms. But the red head was beginning to think she was talking to herself. Since Jenny had left her husband had been in a terrible mood – he'd barely said two words. And whilst she understood that he was worried, she only had so much of a temper.

"S'up to you." He mumbled as he stood there sorting out a box of nails. Not even looking over at his wife who was desperately trying. Deep down he knew he was being a pain, and that he was out of order. But all he could thing about was whether Jenny was safe or not, whether she was managing or not. She'd been gone a week, and it wasn't long until they were due to fly out. But Gibbs knew that even when he was out there he wasn't going to see her – and if he did then he might well just blow her cover.

"What is the shopping like in Moscow?" she asked him, trying once more to start a conversation.

"Wasn't really there to go sightseeing Steph." He stated before turning to look at her and seeing the annoyance in her eyes.

"No, but I thought you might have paid some damn attention Jethro! God knows you do to everyone but me!" And with that she walked off, leaving him to wallow in his own self pity in his basement. But the silver haired marine ran a hand down his face before head slapping his head. He knew that if he didn't sort himself out, he was going to lose her. And she would be just another notch on his bed post - another name to add to the ever growing list.

So he made his way up the basement steps two at a time, and then the stairs, so that he could reach their bedroom. And when he got there he found his wife sat looking at the half filled suitcase that currently resided on their floor, slowly being filled with their clothes – by her. HE walked over and sat next to her, to say he loved her would be too much, but he knew she loved him and he cared for her – that was true. "Steph I-"But she just shook her head and looked at him.

"I'm trying Jethro, god knows I am trying. You don't want kids, but I do, and I'm willing to not have that. You want us to go to Moscow and I haven't objected. You've been a damn b-pain in my ass recently but I've let it slide. I know you're worried about her, but I'm your wife, and I . . . I need a bit of give and take Jethro. I can't do all this-"

"I'll try Steph, I'll try." He said, before hugging her tightly. And naively she believed him. "Take winter clothes, we'll buy anything else over there." Still with her head on his shoulder she nodded, before separating herself and standing up.

"Have you heard anything from her?" The red head asked as she began to take out some of her husband's clothes and fold them ready to be packed away. Stephanie looked over at her husband to see him running a hand down his face.

"She got there safely, but other than that . . . Decker hasn't said anything." He looked over at her, as she packed his things away and felt a wave of guilt. She hadn't signed up for this, she hadn't signed up for any of this. But there she was, trying so hard to make it work and with every brick she put up he just knocked it back down.

"No news is good news, isn't that was they say?" She asked rhetorically as she placed the clothes in the case. Gibbs just took he hand and squeezed it before pulling her over to him and kissing her softly. When they parted she rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. There was nothing she could say, his best friend and partner was on a covert operation and for the first time he wasn't by her side. It was something she believed she would never be able to fully comprehend to the extent that he did.

* * *

Jenny was perched on a barstool in the city. A bar in which she knew that if she tried just hard enough she would get noticed in. so that was why she was perched on the stool, a glass of vodka in front of her (watered down so that she would be able to stay longer and increase her chances of being noticed) looking like a sin. That was something the red head was well aware of. She'd spent every night in the past week there, subtly flirting and making just enough of a stir. Jenny was dressed in a dark Navy dress with a slash neckline and an A line skirt. Her feet were clad in those same red metallic heeled shoes that had done so much good on the night she had gone on the pull. Around her neck was a string of pearls and an individual pearl in each ear.

Jenny's hair was straightened but tied up into a messy bun, emphasising her bright red lips. Jenny sat there, listening to the music of ABBA playing softly in the back ground. She wore a smirk on her lips, and kept glancing around the room. But she had been half heartedly watching the game of chess which was taking place on a table in the corner when she realised someone had sat down beside of her. Turning around she found herself face to face with a man whom she recognised.

He was well built, muscled and she guessed toned – however no attractive. His hair was jet black whilst his skin was almost white in paleness. His eyes were dark and didn't shine or sparkle, they were deep set and his eyebrows resembled to caterpillars on his forehead which was creased with lines. A white scar stood out on his left cheek, a scar she remembered making one night when he'd tried it one with her.

The man in question was Yakov Koslovsky, one of the men whom at the time of her last op with Gibbs had been slowly working his way up the ranks in the arms dealing circle. But who now she had got wind was one of the big boss's footmen. And she was not surprised to find he'd made something of himself – if that was the right expression to use. Yakov had always been good with both his fists and his brain. Although he had tried it on with her – and she had responded violently – she knew that he was by no means the worst out of all of the men she had met. In fact she'd always believed that given the right woman he would make a husband.

But until then, he would remain being the dark, violent and gruff man who he was today.

He watched her, a smirk of his face as he took in her image: sitting there, legs crossed and lips beautifully sinful. _That _was the reason she had taken the time she had with her appearance. Whilst in her NCIS career she had not used her looks, in her alias' world it was very different. In arms dealing you used what you had, and if that was how you looked then so be it.

"Where is your snake of a lover tonight?" He drawled, as though looking for an opportunity. But if it came to it then Jenny's switch blade was strapped to her thigh and gun in her bag.

"_Leo _could be anywhere in the world for all I care." She said, smirking beautifully at the man opposite. Gibbs' name had been chosen because o the way it sounded like an American name – hence his father's heritage – but derived from the Russian name of Lev which was his mother's heritage. "I fly solo now, and I'm a hell of a lot more dangerous that way." She then grabbed the remainder of her Vodka, slugged it back and stood up. Gracefully in one moment she pulled on her coat and left with a wink.

Just mysterious enough to get him to look into her. And soon, she'd be in. This was a dangerous way to play, one she knew Gibbs would disapprove of, but Gibbs wasn't there. She was playing by her own rules now.


	6. Smoke on Ice

**Disclaimer **_NCIS is not mine_

**Authors note **_I want to apologise for the delay – it's here now! And just point out that I have never been to Russia or Moscow, and the extent of my knowledge comes from Google Maps and tv shows. _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_**Smoke on Ice**_

'_I've got a voice, It's all I need, A beating heart inside of me,  
I'm an army of one, I'm a soldier.  
These eyes hold no disguise, We're fighting for our lives,  
We're all trying to get back home tonight.  
Never give up.'  
-Bon Jovi, Army of One_

* * *

Smoke blew out through her lacquered lips as she let her lungs exhale the toxic cigarette smoke. Something that she despised, yet had accepted when offered with the off chance that it might get her acceptance into the boy's club. They'd lit it for her, and as she placed it between her lips and inhaled. Jenny had been well aware that the eyes of every man around the table were on her. That they sat there, smirks ready to crack with the hope she'd start coughing uncontrollably. But this was not the first cigarette Jenny had ever smoked – she had been young, wild and free once upon a time. So she just let a smirk form over her own lips when a look of shock hit the rest of them.

It was just over two weeks since her first meeting with Yakov Koslovsky in that bar. Since then she'd seen him numerous times, and last week he had finally asked her what it was that had brought her to Russia. Jenny had smirked and given him just a couple of words and let him assume the rest. That was the beauty of the arms world – no one said anything explicitly. Illocution was in every sentence spoken, those who had been around long enough all shared the same perlocution, and those who hadn't become completely and utterly baffled. So Jenny's small tid bits of information were all she needed to say.

* * *

_She rested her head on her hand, lips slightly risen at the corners, the light passing a small shadow over her eyes causing a darkness in her image. Her eyes sparkled, just as she knew they would do. Her outfit was formal, and the blouse she wore left just enough to the imagination whilst being perfectly enticing. In front of her was her standard watered down Vodka, and opposite her was Yakov. "Why are you back in Russia Julietta?" He asked, his voice monotonous, dark and husky from years of smoking the foul cigars and cigarettes he so loved. _

_She raised her eyes before looking down. Jenny knew how to play this, it was the same way she always played things when someone asked her what her job was and she didn't want them to know. The red head licked her lips, and sat up, undoing the bobble in her hair so that the red locks fell lose. Placing her head back on her hand she pushed the red locks over her shoulder so that they cascaded down her back. Reaching forward she placed the clear glass to her lips, pausing to speak before she drank from it. "Leo betrayed us all. So I left him." The liquid slid down her throat, and even after a week of drinking it, and it being watered down, it still burnt the back of her throat. Still it caused her tongue to feel like a flame was lapping at it. "I decided I could do business better than him." She said, looking down at the glass. Her voice was house; from what she hoped he would think was emotion but what in actual fact was caused by the burn of the Vodka. _

_She saw out of the corner of her eye him smirk, and order another shot of vodka for himself. There was a look in his eyes that made he think he was planning something. "Why Moscow?"_

_And Jenny just smirked, thinking of what Stephanie had said to her the day she visited the house. They'd be arriving soon, Jethro would be in the same country as her, and she wondered just how long it would take him to turn up on her doorstep questioning her game plan. "Well they do say it is beautiful in the spring."_

* * *

Now she was sat around a table – outside in the freezing cold – with Yakov and some of the other game players. They all spoke a mixture of Russian and English, so she only understood a small amount of the conversation. But that was all she needed, because she knew that all of their attention was on her. She'd chosen a knitted sweater dress in a dark beige colour which hit mid thigh. She'd put on a pair of black tights, which meant that her legs were currently freezing. Her feet were clad in black suede boots and she had put on the Royal blue jacket that she bought a couple of days ago at some boutique she passed. It had cost an arm and a leg but the colour worked perfectly and caught every ones eye. "And you Ms De Sauveterre, you think the erm . . . cheaper arms are the way to go? Small over large?" Jenny turned to look at the man beside her. She'd not caught his name, but he looked to be older than the rest, and the only one of the men not dressed completely in black. Jenny blew a line of smoke from between her lips, and took a moment to contemplate her answer to his question.

"It depends on your supplier." She said, smirking to herself as she tried to boost her reputation. "But with me, size is not everything. I know many people who've gone large and haven't a clue how to use it. That's why our business is in such catastrophe."

She wasn't sure who understood what she said or what she was implying, but from the smirk that was forming over Yakov's face, she knew his English was definitely good enough to understand her. "I do not understand?" The man beside her said once again. But Jenny was still watching Yakov; she rolled her eyes for his sake, and turned back to the man beside her with a smirk.

"If you can't play with the big boys, then don't try." She smirked once more than proceeded to drop the remainder of her cigarette onto the floor and stub it out with the heal of her boot. Looking over at the man in the corner who had started the conversation she decided to blow her own trumpet just a little more. After all she wasn't in the business of sitting around in café's for another year. "Getting cheaper arms is all well and good; who you sell them to is the issue. I never trust large cheap arms. I only deal in Military goods, and I only ever will - too much risk with the others. Just because I provide weapons to kill, does not mean I want to be the cause of harm." She spoke with her accented English, looking as the man opposite considered what as being translated for him. She waited patiently for his response to come through one of the other men next to him who acted as a translator for the conversation.

"Women generally don't want to think about blood." She had to stop herself from laughing, and instead just raised her eyebrows. From the look of the man he had not done much causing of bloodshed in a while. His hands were smooth, obviously moisturised daily to a degree which bordered on obsessive. His face was clean, and even though he was older than she, his appearance seamed immature and almost childish.

"It is not the blood which bothers me. It is the paperwork of a law suit – such a pain in my ass." And with that she stood up and left the men who understood what she had said to laugh. And as she went she pulled her coat closer around herself, and deciding it was way too cold to even consider walking she hailed a taxi home. She knew that she had definitely made her mark already.

* * *

"Are you sure we fly out today? We've no tickets or anything!" Stephanie said as she clumsily walked down the stairs, dragging behind her one of her two suitcases. With each step she went down, it made another clunking noise as the plastic wheels which held the weight of the case hit another step. From behind her Jethro watched as he carried her second suitcase along with his own duffel bag. He'd wanted to make some sarcastic remark but after how he'd acted lately he had decided – thankfully – that it probably wasn't a good idea.

"Yeah Steph, Marrow said that there would be an agent waiting at the airport to give us them." She finally reached the bottom and heaved a sigh of relief. Jethro couldn't help but smirk at her slightly flustered pale face. He may not be head over heels in love with her – that was something that was making its self blatantly obvious. However he could not deny that she was a very attractive woman. And with the slight pink tinge that was making its way from her neck across her face contrasting with her light face, he found himself thankful that she was going to be there beside him. She might just manage to distract him enough to stop him doing something stupid or making himself ill.

"Are you _sure _we fly today though? I mean every time I talk to you the date has changed!" Gibbs smiled at her and placed both of the bags he was carrying down on the floor before walking over to her. The silver haired marine could tell that she was nervous; all she had done all week was ask questions about what she'd have to do. And he'd been reminded that she wasn't Jenny, she wasn't used to having to do things like this, having out of the blue plans thrown on her, in fact up until she married him she probably wasn't even sure that anyone actually had to do this.

Wrapping his arms around her small waist and pulling her closer to him, he looked down into her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, strands softly escaping and framing her face. "Yeah Steph, we go today." And she just nodded before resting her head on his chest. Gibbs was reasonably sure she was asking because if they weren't, then she'd be relieved.

Since the day they had spoken in their room, he had tried to be less of a pain in her ass. After all it wasn't her fault. But he was still scared for Jenny; he had only heard that she had made contact with the Russians, and nothing else. For over three weeks work that wasn't a lot of feedback. But he knew too, that when they had been undercover the amount of information they had relayed back to NCIS had been minimal. Now that he was on the outside though, it all seemed so much harder.

Part of him wanted to go and find her and soon as he landed in Moscow – a large part of him. He'd managed to extract the address of the apartment that she was staying at out of Decker. Gibbs wanted to find her and just take her away with him. But he knew that if he did that, not only would he risk her cover and her life, she'd probably kill him. Her going off on her own, doing an op with barely any back up, he was pretty sure it was her trying to show him she wasn't the little probie he had taken to Europe any more.

And it was working.

Stephanie pulled away slightly from her husband, and looked at his glazed over eyes. She still wasn't sure what her role would be when they got there. Other than that if anyone asked she was married to 'Leo'. When she'd been briefed by the director she'd overheard and argument between Marrow and a man that she was guessing to be his boss. All she'd caught was that by her going out to Russia, and being in on the op it was a big risk. That it could all go south so easily, and that it was highly unprofessional. "Jethro . . ." He looked down at her, watching as the cogs in her brain spun furiously and she tried to figure out the best way to phrase what she wanted to say. "Are you going to be able to see her?"

Gibbs pulled away and went to sit down on the bottom stair. He ran a rough hand down his face; rubbing his tired eyes and feeling his stubble lightly graze against his hand. She watched him, hand moving up and down her own arm with nerves as she waited for his reply. Although she didn't know the woman in question especially well, she obviously meant something to her husband – that was undeniable. And if she was hurt, then it would hurt Gibbs which would in turn hurt her. Jenny was the only person who managed to physically scare him, that was something that it had not taken long for Stephanie to figure out. "I don't know." He said, looking up, but at the door as oppose to at his wife. Thinking of the world that lay outside the house, of Moscow and Jenny; fending on her own. "If Tom or Will say so, then yeah. If she contacts me first; then yeah. But otherwise; no."

Stephanie didn't say a word; instead she just nodded and walked over, before sitting down beside him. Both of them scared about the mission they were about to participate in, but both for different reason.

* * *

"So where are we staying? In the city?" Stephanie asked, they'd been on the plan for over two hours and her husband had finally awoken from his sleep at the smell of the food being handed out. He looked away from his cardboard box of food and over at his wife. She was trying to view this in the best light, he knew that. He also knew that her sister was currently cursing his name.

"Nah, some village in the countryside. About half an hour from the city, small town, quiet, cottage thing I think." He tried to sound interested, but in truth he knew that the first thing he would do would be to attempt to set up the small amount of surveillance equipment he knew how to use – in the hope that he would catch a glimpse of his red headed partner in the city.

"Oh, well we should probably try and find a supermarket in the city so we can get some food. That way we could unpack tomorrow. It's probably gonna be a stupid time that we arrive anyway."

"Fine, 'long as we get bourbon." Jethro said and he began to eat his food with the plastic fork. They claimed it was beef hotpot, but he was slightly dubious. It looked more like a couple of stones in mud with some green mush at the side which was meant to be vegetables. It turned out that it didn't taste much better than it looked either. So he dropped his fork in the plastic container and took a drink of his coffee - attempting to rid his mouth of the disgusting taste. All of this made his wife laugh at his expense. Stephanie took a sip of her white wine and began to add one of the small squares of pre-cut cheese to a cracker and eat it.

Gibbs looked over at her meal, glaring at the crackers and her hot meal which looked like a baked potato – or at last more like a baked potato than his had looked like hotpot. She smiled kindly at him and he just huffed, placing the lid back on the container which held his make-shift meal. "How come you get that, and I get . . ." He didn't even know what to call the meal he had been handed.

"I told the Director to tell the airline I was vegetarian." She stated, smiling at him before sitting back and ripping open the package for her jacket potato. Laughing at her husband's scowl she passed him the potato whilst she carried on eating the crackers. He thanked her, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Once the meals were put away, she pushed the armrest between them up and rested her head on her husband's shoulder, snuggling up to him.

Jethro kissed his wife's head and then slowly fell asleep.

* * *

When they stepped out of the very same airport that Jenny had just weeks before, they were greeted by the sight of dusk falling over the city of Moscow. The bare trees stood like silhouettes in front of the orange tinted grey sky behind of them. The shops were all beginning to close up, whilst cafes relished in the final flow of people stopping off for coffee and food before they braved the cold weather and travelled home to the warm housed that were waiting for them somewhere near or far.

Gibbs held his own duffel bag along with pulling one of Stephanie's cases whilst she pulled the other behind her. Both stopped to survey the scene. For Gibbs it was surreal to know that he could only be mere streets away from his partner whom was lost in her own world of undercover. Yet he was that close and could not see her without someone else's say so. For Stephanie it was as though the reality of what was happening had finally hit. She stood her large suitcase up and did up her thick woollen coat, glad that she had chosen to pack and buy the warmest clothes she possibly could.

The red head looked over at her husband, as saw him switch to agent mode right before her very eyes. All of a sudden his posture straightened, and he tensed up, looking out on autopilot for any threats that he could see. Then, he looked at her and signalled for her to follow her husband – which she did without question. In the next few months or however long this thing lasted for Stephanie knew that if Jethro told her to do something then she would have to do it. It didn't matter what it was or how much she didn't want to do so.

Gibbs hailed a taxi for them, put her luggage in the boot and told the driver their address in perfect Russian. And so the long drive began to their home from home. And as they went, both watched out of their own windows as the cold city passed them by.

* * *

She walked into the apartment, her healed black boots clip clopping on the hard flooring as she did so. The sun was setting over the city, and she could feel the butterflies returning to her stomach. The red head closed the door, locking all the bolts on the back of it and placing her back down on the wooden working top. Her eyes were instantly taken by the view over the river that took over the whole of the wall opposite her. Jenny paused watching as the sky visibly changed in colour before her eyes. As the planes took off, and landed, as the few birds that could deal with the cold weather flew in the sky.

Shrugging off the blue jacket that had done its job of keeping her warm to a suitable degree, she placed it down with her bag and set about making herself a cup of coffee. Once the warmth of the dark liquid had travelled through the white porcelain, she picked it up and walked over to the seating area that took in the view.

Her cold hands wrapped tighter around the white mug, light pins and needles travelling through her fingers and palms at the sudden change in heat. Lifting the mug up to her face, she blew out through her lacquered lips, making waves of movement in the coffee. Her eyes watched at the small stream of steam rose up into the air. Curling and moving so elegantly before dissipating into the air it's self.

Jenny looked out, once more, of the window, thinking about Jethro and only Jethro. She knew he had arrived today, there had been a note on her napkin last time she visited a café. And today was that day. He was in the same city as her, but with his wife. Part of her wanted to call him – there would be no shame in it. There would be no shame on her if she chose to abandon this operation. But she wouldn't that was something she was certain of.

Placing her cup down on the coaster she walked over to her answering machine and listened to the automated voice tell her there were no messages. Sighing softly, she turned and put in one of the few CD's that Decker had provided her with. None of which fitted her taste. But anything was better than the lonely silence that filled the room around her.

And with her coffee back in her hands as she sat with her book on her knee ten minutes later, she still felt alone. But at least she was attempting to make the most of a bad situation. Until dawn that was, when she would once more have to use her assets to get her recognised.

But for now she would try to relax, safe in the knowledge that not far away her partner was settling down for the long haul of watching over her.

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated greatly! _


	7. Rules are There to be Broken

**Disclaimer** _NCIS is not mine_

* * *

_**Rules are There to be Broken**_

'_We all bleed red, all taste rain, All fall down, lose our way  
We all say words we regret, We all cry tears, all bleed red  
__Sometimes we're strong, sometimes we're weak  
__Sometimes we're hurt, it cuts deep  
__We live this life breath to breath  
__We're all the same, we all bleed red'  
__-Ronnie Dunn, All Bleed Red_

* * *

She supposed it had become her morning ritual of sorts. The way that every morning – even when she had no appointment to make – she would awaken at 0630, something that back in DC would have been a lie in considering she was usually in the office by that time. Then, Jenny would do fifty sit ups – or until the muscles in her stomach screamed so much she couldn't do another. After that she would lie on her back for thirty seconds before doing fifty jack knives. The red head had already decided that given the chance she would buy a punch bag and place it in the living area of the apartment. That might relieve her boredom on the days when she was supposed to be dealing with her clients. Something she didn't need to do as Decker was in charge of that side of her cover.

Once her morning exercises were completed, and she felt as though she could happily curl back up in bed. She'd walk to the bathroom, strip and get in a boiling hot shower. So hot that the seam caused the mirrors outside of the bathroom to cover over in a layer of water vapour. So hot; that she had to hiss at the feeling of it first hitting her bare skin. Then, Jenny would dry her hair, and either straighten or curl it. Spend half an hour applying her makeup to the highest standard possible, and finally reward herself with a mug of steaming black coffee. That said coffee would be drunk as she stood looking out on the city below her. Watching the reflection of the steam raising up from the mug of dark liquid she held in her hands.

And that morning ritual was one she had completed that morning. As she stood with her coffee she watched over the city as she always did, she watched the ripples in the river as it travelled downstream. Bypassing the city, leaving behind it all the worries and fears that gave the city its dark atmosphere. Even at noon when the sun was high, the city was dark. The sky gray, and everything was doom and gloom. Moscow was depressing in the winter; that was evident to her after only being in the city for a short time.

It was no holiday destination.

People came to the city for business. To deal with their sister businesses, and rivalling opponents. They came to drink harsh vodka and get drunk. What they did not do was come to enjoy the beauty. Because whilst some of the architecture could take away some ones breath. Whilst the city was unique in the way that the past met so boldly with the present, old greying stone sat next to glass frontages.

No one came to Moscow, in the winter, for the fun of it.

Not now at least.

She placed the cup to her lacquered lips, and took a sip of the beautifully dark and strong liquid. Feeling the thrill of awakening, as the caffeine rushed around her body and her heartbeat momentarily quickened. Today was just another day, just another grind to try and prove herself to be good enough for the critics. Jenny had returned to the apartment yesterday to find a load of blue prints for weapons on the counter. _The Itinerary _read a sticky note on the top of them. They were what she could offer, and that was a heck of a lot. Everything from standard issue hand guns with a six bullet magazine, to machine guns only used in the harshest of war zones. Hand grenades, and RPG's, she could offer them all. And every single item was Armed Forces issue – just as her cover dictated.

It was the first sign that soon she might be getting to where she needed to be to play with the big boys. To get this mission well and truly under way and then get herself the hell out of Moscow and try and become Jenny Shepard again.

She'd made arrangements to meet with Yakov tonight in the bar where he had first approached her. He'd told her had had 'big news for her'. Something that could either end up being the making of the mission, or the thing she had been dreading which could break it down into a million pieces at her feet. Could pull apart her delicate façade and alias, that could be the final nail in her coffin. But that was something she refused to contemplate. She'd acted as painstakingly slowly as she knew that she needed to, in order to gain their trust, gain their respect, and hopefully gain entrance to the group of superiors that ran the circus. In the same way as they had acted the first time around – when it was her and Gibbs. Thankfully though, this time around she had a back story that they knew – mainly because they had been part of - to help her along and give her push forward that she needed to speed up.

So she stood there, watching over the city, thinking of the evening that was approaching. She'd chosen her outfit wisely, a more relaxed one than she generally chose. Something which she hoped would show him how relaxed she was around them now. Jenny wore a pair of grey, tight fitting trousers, with black leather zip pockets. On her top half she wore a baggy royal blue sweater that fell off one shoulder and revealed the lacy strap of her black bra. On her feet she wore the black louboutin ankle boots; her lipstick matched the red of the soles. Her hair was loose and natural, a mass of thick curls that made her look so much more dangerous.

Taking a final sip of her coffee she took the mug back to the kitchen and looked around her apartment aimlessly. Not knowing what to do with herself once more. So, her thoughts fell back Gibbs, as they seemed always to do so …

* * *

He'd only been going to the city to get their next allowance of cash. Something which was a new initiative in order to attempt to cut back unnecessary costs – also known as the SecNav sticking his nose in. It was dusk in the city. The sun had long since moved under the sky line, but the sky was yet to fully turn to the pitch black thickness that took over it at night. Instead it stayed in a charcoal grey like state. There were no stars to light the sky; the moon was out of view, so the mellow orange light cast by the street lights was the only illumination. The shadows they cast were long and almost spread from one side of the road to the other. A road which was silent now, few people went out in the city after dark, not during the week anyway. So as he emerged from the old building which housed the bank, he found himself being the only person on the street. As he began to walk, he pulled the thick black woollen coat closer to his body, and flicked the collar up to try as keep himself warm.

As he walked, slowly, he was thinking about many things. Thinking about Will and Stan who were back in DC, no doubt fully involved in the op themselves. Then, predictably he thought of Jenny, the red headed partner with whom he worked. And Gibbs couldn't help but wonder as to where she was right in that moment. In fact he was so caught up in his own world of thoughts, that he thought he saw he walk down the street. Her red hair blowing backwards in the wind, heels clicking on the ground to the beat of some song she was no doubt humming in her head. But then he blinked – a good ten times – and he blinked again.

And, even after all that blinking, there she still was. Only now she wasn't walking, instead she was opening the door to one of the bars. Her figure was perfectly silhouetted by the long camel coat. Her red hair contrasted against the pale material perfectly. His eyes were drawn to her, his jaw dropping as she disappeared behind the door and into the building.

The special agent didn't know how long he stood there for, all he knew was that by the time he realized he was still stood there, he had a thin layer of snow on his shoulders. Gibbs had known that he could see her, that just walking around the city caused a chance of bumping into her. But, he'd just thought that it wouldn't happen. He'd not even considered the chance that he would see by pure accident. But there she had been, write near him. Mere meters away. He ran a hand through his cold and damp hair, looking around the abandoned street. Once more it was empty, and the snow was falling, he'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't even realised that it had started. But the snow was of little importance compared to what he had just witnessed. As he thought about her, suddenly he forgot about everything that his head was screaming at him not to do, and the next thing he knew, he was opening the door into the bar she had walked into.

The bar was dark; he couldn't make out many of the features. There was a main bar, and then some booths around the edge, chairs and tables were in the middle, and it was basically filled with as many chairs as they could possibly get in. The radio played quietly in the background, although it was more just the sound of the static crackling than it was the sound of music. Unlike most American bars, there was no TV showing whatever sporting game that was currently being lost.

Gibbs walked in, and looked around the bar. Among the multiple heads of black or brown hair, it didn't take long for him to spot Jenny and her iconic red hair. He was all set to walk straight over, until he saw that she was with someone. She was leaning ever so slightly over the table, in a way that told him she was flirting. Whether she was flirting to for the fun of it – which he could not deny her the right to do, or flirting to get information he didn't know. And when he saw a man he recognised from the last op sat opposite her, reality finally struck him.

Gibbs realised that this wasn't finding her to be in the same holiday destination. That wasn't what this was for her – for him; it could be. If he wanted to go sightseeing, or take a flight to Amsterdam for the weekend then he could. But Jenny was here on business, she was here for the greater good of the United States of America. And he couldn't just go walking over to her and blow the entire mission.

He wanted to head slap himself, but Gibbs was aware that would draw attention to himself. So instead he walked over to the bar, stood in the dark corner, where he could watch Jenny, but he hoped that he couldn't be seen. The silver haired man caught to attention of the bar tender, and in flawless Russian he ordered bourbon. Unlike Jenny he had no cover to maintain, so he drank his preferred drink, and left her to the Vodka.

* * *

"Are you going to tell me what my surprise is, Yakov?" she asked him, hair falling over one shoulder, whilst he sweater slipped off of the other one. Jenny leant on the table, resting her head on her hand, and looking like a seductress in every which way possible. Her eyes looked down to her glass. She swirled the clear liquid around so that rose up the sides softly, and spun as it went. Taking a sip she looked over at him, and with a wicked smirk that made most men weak at the knees she said; "S'il vous plaît?"

"You have made quite an impression with many people in this city Jullietta." Said Yakov, as he down his double vodka in one, and immediately ordered another. He drank the drink like it was water, something that Jenny admired. Whilst she could drink the harsh alcohol, she didn't particularly like it. Whiskey would always be her drink of choice, preferably bourbon when she was given the option. If she was honest Vodka was at the bottom of her preference, but it wasn't the worst thing. And because it fitted with her cover and gained her some respect; she drank it.

"Well it doesn't take much, mais, je suis le feu dans les rues." The red head said, slipping into flawlessly accented French without a second thought. She'd forever thank those people who had forced her to practice the language and learn it until she was faultless. Because of it, she now sat in a bar, doing something that most would think that she wouldn't be able to, and she was doing it perfectly. Being mysterious, without being too untrustworthy, and that was thanks to the language she had had hammered into her.

"I do not understand you're language, but I shall hope that it was something complementary, and leave it at that." They remained silent, as he thought about how to word what he was about to tell her. As he looked over at Jenny, he saw the way she looked around the bar, with a look that made him wonder if she wanted to be somewhere else. Moscow was a place of business, and she was definitely used to a different sort of life. That made him wonder what she was doing in the city. But he couldn't wonder, not on his pay check. That was something for everyone else to think about. "My bosses seem to think a lot of you, they have the opinion that you may one day be running this town."

"That is something that I am sure makes them choke on their words – we women are not really welcomed in the arms world."

"You may well be the frontier of change in this world then Jullietta, because they want a meeting with you. It takes most people years to get a meeting with them."

"Yakov, what does it mean?" she asked him, trying to make herself sound vulnerable. Even if she was the frontier of women in the arms industry, it didn't mean that the men still didn't want her to be vulnerable. So she put the act on, in this world, she couldn't just say how she felt with the ease that was allowed in America, she had to live up – or down if as situation may require – to their expectations.

"It means, Jullietta, that they want to do business with you. That's what you always wanted, isn't it?"

"Who wouldn't Yakov!" And she smiled at him, before downing the rest of her drink. Her eyes looked down at the empty glass, trying desperately to hide the smile on her face. Because it was a good thing – the best news – and it meant that she was one step closer to getting this op finished with and done. But the atmosphere didn't last very long, his next question broke the atmosphere into a million pieces.

"What would you say if Leo were here?" Jenny stopped dead in her thoughts and looked at him. She'd been so caught up in what she was thinking about that she didn't notice Yakov looking around the bar, she didn't notice his face turn cold and hard, his jaw clenching or hand fisting, as his eyes fell on the man who was attempting to hide in the corner. Now Jenny looked in his eyes, and saw coldness.

"I'd kill him, but there would be too many witnesses." She said, joking, but then she saw his face, saw what was in his eyes and she stopped. Suddenly her heart was beating a mile a minute, and all she could think of was Jethro's safety. "Yakov, what is going on?" _Her_ voice was hard now, the cocky and playful personality had gone out of the window, and now she sat there worried. Because _Leo _had only ever been mentioned a couple of times and on those occasions she'd been the one who generally spoke the dreaded name of a traitor.

"The traitor is sat in that corner, Jullietta. And I say this because you seem to be a lot a better without him. But you will have to choose him or the arms world."

"I'll choose the arms world in a heartbeat."

"Get rid of him Jullietta, before you lose everything you have worked for." And with that, Yakov stood up and left and Jenny glared over at her partner who was sat in the corner. And at that moment, Gibbs looked at her, and both of them were well aware that she knew he was there, and she was not at all happy. Her eyes were a blaze with anger, he could see her fist clenching under the table, and her posture becoming stiff.

It was as he looked at her then; he saw that she wasn't the young and naïve Jennifer Shepard he had taken out to Europe with him. No longer did she look up to him in such a way that he was her god. She would cover her own ass if that meant throwing his under the bus – or at least she would do so when it came to this mission. As he saw her stand up and nod discretely outside it finally hit him just how stupid of an idea it had been to follow her. To subconsciously try and make her notice him, want her to run into his arms like something from a cliché movie. He was suddenly aware of the fact that her companion had spotted him. That he had nearly made everything she was working for fall down around her feet.

He had nearly had her killed.

Something that he would never manage to forgive himself for if it went that far. Something, he knew that no one would ever forgive him for. So he did as he was told, he stood up, downed the rest of his drink in one, and went to leave the bar, giving it one last look before he did. Reminding himself that he had made it come to this.

Outside was cold, and the snow was still softly falling. There were shoe prints in the snow now though. As he exited he pulled on his coat, and pulled it tight around him to keep his body heat in. An attempt to try and stop him freezing his backside off. And then he saw it, the small amount of red hair disappearing down an alley. And with the same stupidity that had made him go in the bar just moments ago, he ran down the alley, and followed her.

Back in the bar she'd nodded at him to go outside, but as soon as she had gotten out there, she'd realised that if she came face to face with him then she wouldn't want to go back. Seeing the worry in those crystal blue eyes, the way his salt and pepper hair blew in the wind – she wouldn't be able to cope. Jenny would simply want to give up. So she walked away from the bar, hoping she'd be able to leave the thought of him there.

"Hey J-!" He nearly shouted her name, nearly shouted 'Jenny', something that he was sure she would have slapped him across the face for doing. But she did nothing; she didn't acknowledge his presence until he caught up with her and grabbed her arm, causing her to spin around. And that was when he saw her, up close, for the first time in what felt like a very long time. "Please, I'm. . ."

She looked at him, and a bitter smirk formed on her face as she looked at him. "You can't even swallow your god damn pride, and stop acting like John Wayne for two minutes even when you are in the wrong!" She stated, stopping herself from shouting as she harshly removed her arm from his grasp. And she looked at him dead in the eye, and she just wanted to cry. Because whilst she was over the moon to see him, over the moon to be looking in his eyes. Jenny was hurt, because he'd nearly risked her life, he was an agent – he knew the risk that did to her life – and yet he'd still done it. "You're an idiot!" She said, hissing, before she just walked away - but Jethro ran after her.

"Please!" He said and she stopped and turned to him, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I was stupid, I know, but I wanted to make sure you were safe!"

"So you decided to risk my life by doing that?!"

"Did you get out okay?" And she looked at him, before nodding, and sighing softly.

"Yeah, he told me to get rid of you." She looked in Gibbs' eyes as he nodded at her. "I'm in, I'm in and you're gonna have to deal with that."

"I'm glad –"

"I don't care Gibbs, I don't wanna see you again until the mission is over – end of!" And with that she stormed off, and left him gobsmacked. It wasn't that she felt that way – because she didn't. Jenny wanted him to be by her side more than anything. She wanted to return to that apartment and see him sat there on one of the chairs drinking coffee like she had done last time. She wanted to go back and have someone to moan at, wanted that flat to feel less like a cold prison cell. But she also knew that that was not a possibility. And Gibbs needed to know that too.

So she was being blunt.

Even if it did mean that she broke her heart in the process.

* * *

That night Jenny decided to walk home instead of calling a taxi. She was armed, and safe. If her name was as frequently mentioned as Yakov had implied that it was then no one would approach her. The red head found the river easily, making her way through a series of back streets without even thinking. And as she stood on the path that ran down the river bank, she stopped and looked out over the frozen city. Snow was been blown by the wind. Her hair blew back like a fire caught in the wind of the forest. White speckles landed in it, some melting and some not. And as she stood there, she wiped away a tear before it froze. The city was at her feet, she was about to walk above them all – straight to the top.

And yet all she wanted to do was run. Run as fast as her Louboutin feet could carry her. Run away from this city, this country, this continent. Run back into the comforting orange walls of NCIS headquarters. Go back to her life with Will and Stan, with Gibbs before he married then they had that quirky relationship.

It's true what they say – that you never know what you have until it's gone. And as she stood there overlooking a cold city, no longer Jennifer Shepard, but not feeling like Jullietta either, she knew that she would do anything to go back in time.

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_Reviews please?!_


	8. French Seduction

**Disclaimer **_NCIS is not mine_

**Author's note **_I can only apologise for the delay! It really is unacceptable but I hope you stick with this. Just a note also, I have never been to Moscow and my only knowledge comes from Google maps, and the tv show 'The Americans'. So, sorry if it is not right._

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_**French Seduction**_

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'_I never wanna be the one__  
__Who kept you from being free__  
__But girl I've gotta know what you want__  
__'Cause I've taken all I can take__  
__So just go if you wanna go__  
__Stay if you wanna stay'  
-Keith Urban, If you wanna stay_

* * *

"You honestly think I can hide a weapon in this dress?" Jenny asked with an evil smirk falling over her bright red lips whilst hands roamed her body. The dress in question made men go wild whilst still managing to appear professional. It was black, fell just above the knee and was pulled in at the waist. The skirt was tulip styled and hugged her curved whilst the top was clingy with cap sleeves. Her long red hair was straightened and fell down her back, contrasting boldly with both the dress and the royal blue coat she had had on before they had hung it up for her. On her feet were her favourite red stilettos, the ones she had worn the night she got her man whilst Gibbs was on honeymoon. The ensemble did exactly what she wanted – that had been obvious since the moment she had stepped into the vintage building.

The outside was well maintained, the cream stonework frequently cleaned to prevent the exhaust fumes from greying it. The windows were reflective, meaning no one could look in. Not that they would dare to anyway. This was where she was to meet with the man in charge of the European arms ring. A man whose name no one knew. Who simply was to be called 'sir'. And as she had walked in, she had known she was in the right place. Everyone inside was male, each dressed in a sharp black suit with a crisp white shirt and black tie with a simple silver tie pin, each held one large black machine gun, yet she had spotted a smaller handgun each and every one of them – concealed at the base of their spine – and she guessed there was a third somewhere else on their person in addition to numerous knives.

But she, however, was completely unarmed. She had nothing on her, bar the gun in her handbag which had been taken away. So as she stood there being patted down by the security – a little longer than she needed to be patted down for – she was unarmed and defenceless. Stood in front of large white double doors each one wooden delicately decorated with carvings done to a standard that even Gibbs would approve of. She knew for a fact that he would touch the wood, admire the handiwork and no doubt make her feel like he needed a moment alone with the door. But to her, it simply reminded her of the man whom was somewhere else in the city. The man who was currently going about his life with his wife by his side. Who she had sent away over a week ago now, and not heard from since.

Finally they stopped their search, satisfied that she really wasn't hiding anything under what was almost a skin tight dress. And so she stood there, with her arms folded, waiting to be permitted into which ever room she was to be lead into. This was about to be the meeting which she knew most agents would kill to get. It would make or break this mission – but if she got it right, then the whole mission was about to slot into place. Was about to slip perfectly into uniform and she'd be able to walk right out of it when he trap had been set. And never step in Julietta's shoes ever again. Something, which was an incredibly pleasant thought right at that moment.

Jenny watched with a detailed precision as the men whispered to one another. A mass of men in black suites and white shirts, all black haired. One wore glasses, thick rimmed and harsh against his pale skin. Another had hair which seemed to be a little longer than that of the rest. Each one could be identified as a different person – but only just. They looked like soldiers, all moulded so that they were matching. She watched as the man with the glasses placed his finger in his ear, and listened to what she guessed was an earwig. Then he turned to two other men, one who was slightly less well built that the rest.

It those two men to walked over to her, and walked her through the double doors opposite, and then through a second single door. Then she found herself in a room that she guessed must look out over the rear of the house. It was decorated to match the old European fashioned white door; however all the furniture was made from dark stained wood with varying shades of blue fabric and cushions. The walls were painted in a colour which looked to be a mixture of baby blue and a light grey. The whole ensemble screamed male, it seemed like she was most likely the first woman to step foot in the room for a while.

It smelt like expensive cigar smoke, mixed with vintage scotch – which considering everyone in Russia only drank Vodka surprised her. But it was warm, and over on one of the walls was an open fire, logs stacked high in a copper drum next to it. The fire was lit and she wanted to walk over to it, curl up in a ball and fall asleep shrouded in warmth. But then she heard the sound of clinking as two glassed met, and her eyes were drawn to a man who was sat in one of two chairs which were separated by a dark wooden table. Topped with a cut crystal decanter of liquor, and four cut crystal tumblers to match.

"Personally I avoid Vodka at all costs, it's just so _plain_, it has none of the complexity that Scotch has." He said, but what surprised Jenny was the fact that he spoke French, and when he looked up, she found herself looking into the eyes of a man who was much older than she had thought he would be. She guessed in his late fifties to early sixties. He too – like his security – wore a black sharp tailored suit; however he wore a pale blue open neck shirt instead. His hair was died brown; however Jenny believed he would look a lot better if in fact he accepted the grey that was no doubt natural instead. All in all the man she was looking at was attractive for his age; he looked to keep in good shape. Jenny's agent skills allowed her to notice his lack of wedding ring, yet she did notice that on his right hand there was a gold band – one which resembled a wedding ring. Making Jenny wonder whether he was divorced but had not accepted the fact, or whether he was just trying to hide his personal life. Something that she believed would probably be a good idea in his cut throat world.

"Je suis d'accord." Jenny agreed in flawless French as she smiled over at the man. He nodded towards the seat and she accepted the offer to be seated. Both seats matched the style of the room. They were roll back chairs, covered in a blue fabric which was ever so lightly patterned. The feet were a dark stained wood, other parts of the chair was accented in the same choice. Once she sat down he handed her a generous dose of the Scotch, and she smiled in thanks. Pleased that for once she would not have to drink what she considered fire water.

"Salut." He said, holding his glass out towards hers, and she smiled once more replying with the same French greeting, and chinked the two glasses together before taking a sip and being hit by memories. Because it was the same scotch that her father had drunk when he was alive. The same one that had been kept in his glass decanter, in his liquor cabinet, in his office. The one that he had drunk whilst doing his paperwork, and the one he had allowed her to try for the first time on her eighteenth birthday when he handed her her present. That very same deep, strong and slightly spicy liquid just reminded her of him. "Now, I would like to congratulate you on the impression you have made. Especially on Yakov, he seems slightly smitten by you." He stated in French once more. The man's voice was deep, and gravely, but soft and gentle at the same time. It was a voice that she was pretty sure would manage to effectively make a child fall asleep in his arms, and yet could make a 13 stone man quiver in his boots if used in the right way.

"I met Yakov when Leo was still around; thankfully the sins of that man have not made others judge me on their behalf." She replied, once more in French.

"Now, I do believe that you have quite the distributive business. And my sources tell me that I would be stupid if I were not to make use of that." With that he placed his glass back onto the table, and refilled it, but chose to leave it there for the time being. Jenny was beside of him, contemplating her words carefully – not wanting to blow this rare chance.

"All the weapons I deal with are military grade, anything currently used by the military – in most said countries – I can provide, and as for slightly older weapons, I can make equerries. I did have a list however it seems that they thought that I may cause you a paper cut and kill you." She states, smirking slightly in her usual way. The man opposite, 'Sir' as he was called, seemed to contemplate what she was saying. And Jenny chose then to down the rest of her liquor, and place the glass down. Then she moved her long fiery red hair over her shoulder, and smiled. Her sinful red lips causing him to notice her. "I may not be a man, sir, but I do business a hell of a lot better than half the _amateurs_ in this city."

"I do not doubt that." He said, eyeing her cautiously. But Jenny did as she always did in this role, she got up and left him wondering and contemplating the woman he had been sat with. Getting up and leaving was something that no one ever did with this man.

However Jenny did.

Standing up, she smiled and began to walk towards the door. "You're men have my portfolio. I hope to hear from you soon." And with hat she left, adding a seductive sway to her hips she left the way she had entered. She walked out, grabbed her coat from where it had been left and grabbed her bag from the hands of one of the men who had kept guard of it.

And she went. Leaving 'Sir' sat with a smirk on his face. There was something about her that just blew everyone else out of the water.

* * *

A nock on the door made him look up, and there stood one of his men. He too thought they all looked the same, so much so that he could barely tell who was who – but with his position no one would be any the wiser, because no one challenged him. Maybe that was why he liked Julietta, because she didn't care about his power, about the number of men he had at his beck and call. He knew that if she didn't agree with him then she would very well tell him. And if she didn't like his offer, she'd probably walk away from it.

"Yes?" He questioned in rough Russian. The man walked over, placed a wad of papers down and left the room without saying a word. 'Sir' picked them up, and smirked at the sight of the papers – guns, grenades, RPG's. Flicking through then he was pleased to see she had not exaggerated. Each weapon held a price on them, and the likelihood of availability. She was a lot more organised than most of the men he dealt with.

So picking up the scotch had took a sip and set about making a mental note of what was of interest to him. Analysing the papers with detailed drawings of each and every weapon on them, analysing the prices and deciding what he wanted to pay. The older man with his dyed hair stayed in that room for a couple of hours and a few more glasses of Scotch before he stood up. Softly he grunted at the feeling of his legs being stiff at the movement after being asleep for so long. But he made his way over to the door with ease, and opened it. He was greeted by a man with longer hair than the rest, and another who looked exactly the same as twenty other men who were in the building.

"Get me Yakov now." And with that he returned into the room, grabbed a pen and paper and set about writing down what his order may be. He might only have met her once, but that didn't deter him. Something in the eyes of that woman made him want to do business with her. Straight to the point, but at the same point there was a mystery. Like she didn't want to do this life, but did it anyway. So he sat there making his order, meanwhile Jenny Shepard walked down the streets of the city feeling quite pleased with herself.

* * *

Jethro sat in the living area of their accommodation, eyes once more glued to the screen desperately trying to catch sight of the red head whom was his partner. The redhead he hadn't seen since the fight, whose life he had nearly put at risk. Who he owed a hell of a lot when he thought about it. Stephanie was in the kitchen cooking their dinner, but he didn't say a word. In fact recently their relationship had become even more strained than it had before. She was scared and doing her best to be a wife to him and love him yet give him the space that she knew he needed.

"Jethro." She said from the door. Dressed in a pair of leggings and a long oversized jumper, her figure was only show by the apron she wore which caused a jumper to be pulled in tighter as it tied around her back. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail from cooking. She knew she didn't look amazing, but that didn't mean that he should not notice her. Stephanie was beginning to get infuriated by her husband, she had tried everything and yet nothing seemed to work. She was stuck in the house, barely leaving it.

She'd thought that they'd take time out, at least venture into the city. But whenever he went, she didn't. The red head was well aware that he was scared of losing her – especially if someone noticed him and remembered that he was the man who had been beside Jenny the last time their aliases were active. But it was beginning to grate on her more than a little bit.

"Will you tear your attention away from that thing for just a minute and actually acknowledge your wife?!" She shouted, throwing a tea towel at him. Then he turned around and looked at her, his eyes wide with shock, he obviously had not heard a word that she just said. Something that was confirmed when he spoke.

"Yeah?" He questioned, and she just rolled her eyes, and was about to walk away, let it slide and stew in silence, but then something snapped inside of her. She decided that she couldn't remain quiet any longer.

"You know what?! _I_ came here for _you! _I didn't want to come, I didn't need to come, but I did. I'm here. And you're more damn bothered about Jenny the whole time. I get that she is in danger, but if you wanted to be with her then you should have damn well said!"

"Steph-"But she cut him off, tears were streaming down her face, she'd finally reached her breaking point, and she couldn't cope anymore.

"You know what? I'm sorry that you married me, I'm sorry I'm your wife. But if you wanted to marry Jenny then you damn well should have done!" And with that she walked back into the kitchen and slammed the door closed behind her as she did so.

Gibbs placed her head in his hands and sighed. Then he rubbed his eyes and ran a hand down his face. He knew he had been an idiot, knew that he had to sort things out before they escalated. But still he was thinking of Jenny. Out of the blue he mentally head slapped himself, turned off all the he turned off the security cameras and went into the kitchen. She didn't want him around – she'd admitted it. So he started to do just as she had said, he'd let her get on with the mission in her own way now. He'd save his marriage instead…

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_Reviews are welcomed with open arms!_


	9. Lipstick Rival

**Disclaimer-** _NCIS is not mine_

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_**Lipstick Rival**_

'_If I'm right we're headed straight for hell  
I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun  
Wait by the door and light a cigarette  
He wants a fight, well now he's got one  
And he ain't seen me crazy yet.'  
-Miranda Lambert, Gunpowder and Lead_

* * *

It was the same bar they usually went to, the one which he had first approached her in all those months ago. The one where the bartender had learn not to flirt with her if he knew what was best for him, where she had spotted Gibbs what now was three weeks ago. The one she was in now sat, once more opposite Yakov, with his dark hair and black polo neck sweater. A man who at first – back when she still had _Leo _by her side – had repelled her, however now he was a man whom she had come to trust. He'd been the one who got her noticed by his superiors, and she had no doubt in her mind that he was the one who had gotten her the meeting with 'Sir' two weeks ago.

The meeting she had decided to walk out of with her seductive swaying hips and a sinfully deadly smirk.

It seemed like she always wore so much makeup these days. Seamed like her long red hair was always either straightened or curled – as though she always made so much of an effort. Every night she would make her way back to that apartment, and the first thing she would do would be remove the layer of makeup. Step in the shower and curl up in her natural state. And yet even though she had considered leaving the apartment without her façade of makeup on, she never had. It was like without that layer of foundation, without the coating of mascara or the sweep of lipstick, she couldn't be Julietta. She didn't have the confidence to pull off the act.

As she sat opposite Yakov now, once more drinking the clear Vodka which she'd had watered down, her appearance was no different. Her hair was straightened, with the top few layers taken back into a couple of bobby pins. Her eyelids were covered with a light dusting of grey eye shadow whilst her eyelashes were defined by mascara. Her lips were accentuated by a pink lipstick, legs clad in black straight leg trousers, teamed with a pale aqua blouse featuring a stiff white colour. Jenny wore the usual camel coat and her Louboutin black ankle boots.

Her head was rested on her hand, and her eyes scanned the bar once more, watching the goings on. There was a couple in the corner, one she'd noticed a couple of times before. She only noticed them because of the woman, whilst everyone else in the bar generally had the palest of skin because of the cold and dull climate; this woman had a beautiful olive skin. Her hair was dark brown, and curly. She always dressed smartly – but never in a skirt. However Jenny had noticed her too, because of the way she always looked uncomfortable in what she was wearing. Generally, like she would rather be in less fitting clothes. Her partner – whilst he had pale skin – did not look Russian. His hair was a lighter brown, eyes a deeper almost chocolate colour which had an unusual warmth to them. Unlike his partner he looked at ease in the open neck shirt and jeans ensemble she had noticed he generally wore.

They were a strange couple though, they talked and laughed like they were supposed to, but they barely ever touched, and when they did it was short and just their hands. It reminded Jenny of a couple who were undercover, but she always banished the thoughts. Knowing that if she convinced herself that there were other agents nearby she would either worry too much and blow the op, or notice them too strongly and blow the op. She watched them subtly for a moment and then turned to look around the bar again.

The bar itself was generally only looked after by two people at most, as this evening was light on clients there was only the usual man behind. The bar it's self played host to a couple of men, all sat there staring aimlessly into their double Vodka. Most wearing a variety of formal business like clothing which gave her the impression that they had arrived at the bar straight from work. Choosing the silence of this place over wherever their homes were.

Sighing to herself she ran a hand though the ends of her hair and smoothed it down before turning at looking at her counterpart who was sat opposite her. She smiled at him. Whilst he had been the one to initiate tonight's meet up, he had barely said a word since he arrived at her table carrying his drink and took the seat opposite. That was something which she was trying to not worry about. Then finally he spoke, looked up from his Vodka and gave her a smile.

"It seems that even though you did walk out of a meeting with the most powerful man in Russia and Europe, you didn't burn all your bridges." She had seen him once since her meeting, although it was only momentarily, he'd caught her eye across the bar, and glared knowingly at her. She'd known then that he was well aware of just how her meeting had ended. However his work had kept him away, so for the last two weeks they had spoken not once.

"You didn't expect me to ruin my chances did you?" She questioned with a smirk on her pink lacquered lips. She once more took a sip of the vile liquid she was being forced to drink and then set the glass down, tilting her head and encouraging him to talk once more.

"I should have known you are smarter than that." He stated, downing the remainder of his own drink and catching the bar tenders eye for another. Then he turned to the beautiful red head who sat opposite him. When he'd first seen her back in his territory, he'd been wary. After all the last time she had been around one of the best arms dealers in Russia had been arrested. But there had been something about her that told him she was honest when she said that she and Leo were no longer together. That she had decided she could achieve more without him by her side.

And as he sat with her now, he was more than a little pleased with his own judgement. "I had my own meeting with 'sir'." The 'Sir' that Yakov referred to was of course the man whom Jenny had met with two weeks ago. Who had drunk the same whiskey as her father had done. "In fact since you met him it seems that I have had a couple." This caused Jenny to pick the corners of her mouth up in a slight smile towards the other man.

"Oh have you now?" She questioned with a slight wink of the eye. The thing about her relationship with Yakov was that she knew that whatever she said would not make him judge her. Similarly to Gibbs, he decided his opinion on a person based upon their actions as oppose to their words. It was strange in that way, because if Yakov and Gibbs could meet – without the knowledge of the others profession – she was pretty sure that they would get along.

"It seems that you have left quite an impression on him." Yakov said, raking his eyes over her body. Jenny hated herself for the way she played up to him, how she pushed her hair over her shoulder, leant her head back and laughed a little so that her neck was exposed. How she crossed her legs and accidently touched his. It wasn't that she found the man attractive; it was just that she knew it would speed up her mission. And in her heart, there was still a fire burning at the thought of leaving Russia and returning home. "He's not the only one either."

"And what kind of impression have I made?" She questioned. In recent weeks she'd noticed the subtle changes in the man opposite her. The one who had, at first, been a cold and hard to crack man, was slowly relaxing in her company. And that was something that pleased her, because it meant that Julietta was doing something right.

"He wants to do business." And with that, the flirtatious atmosphere was removed from the table, and she sat forward, knowing that they would speak in what was barely more than a whisper about work. However, that did not mean she didn't smile a little, because she did.

"Well that id always something that I like to hear." She stated, tilting her head once more. "You the one I'm working through then?" She asked, wondering if she would have to do business with Yakov because the big man himself would not do business directly. That was something which she had had to figure out how to accommodate into the mission. And she had managed to do so, but at the same time doing business direct would mean that he could be charged with so much more that doing it through a middle man.

"No, for the first time I've ever known, he wants to do business directly with you." Yakov stated, picking up the new glass of Vodka and downing it in one. Something that Jenny would always admire the Russians for was their ability to handle their drink. The Vodka was strong and she often wondered how they managed, but she had yet to see a Russian _acting _drunk. She'd seen a couple of them get angry in the street, but she'd never actually seen anyone acting in what she would consider a drunken manner.

"Well aren't I the lucky one." Jenny stated, drinking the remainder of her own Vodka. "When is the meeting to be?"

"You'll be told on the day – we can't have you planning an assassination now can we." He stated, smirking in a joking manner. And with that he stood up, and made his way out of the bar. Jenny sat there, and leant back in her chair, sighing softly in relief at the fact that she was in the clear. But also was getting further up the ladder. The red head let a small smile fall across her lips before she grabbed her back and shrugged on her jacket. Then left the bar.

* * *

She never usually opted for the girly look – and whilst her outfit today would not be as 'girly' as some would classify, it was girly enough for her. The black of her tight pencil skirt was teamed with a lilac blouse which was covered in small white polka dots. The said blouse was loose fitting, the sleeved bellowed and it accentuated her figure. On her feet were a pair of Louboutin Daffodil shoes, in a mauve purple. The bright red lipstick that she usually wore had been traded in for a very pale pink, and her hair was tied up in a long ponytail.

As she walked own the cold street, her camel wool jacket unfastened so that the breeze bit at her skin through the fabric, and her hair swung from side to side as she went like a pendulum. It was dusk in the city now, and the streets were filled with men and women heading home after a busy day. As Jenny walked, dressed formally for her meeting with 'sir', she blended in perfectly.

That morning she had been stood looking out over the city, when her mobile had rung telling her that the meeting would be that day. So Jenny had smiled, made sure that she knew every single weapon she could over off by heart, making sure she knew the years of production, years of use by the military – by _whose _military – and just how many she could get. Then she'd run over the price list a hundred times over. It was what she always did. Before they'd had meetings last time around, Gibbs had relaxed – slept – or tried to get her to leave the apartment and explore the city. But that wasn't how Jenny worked; she would sit with a mug of coffee, and read over everything. Read over every piece of paper like this was some big exam.

Jethro hadn't understood it at first, thought that she was stupid. But then he'd seen her in action, seen how all of those nerves that he'd watched her harbour in the apartment dissipated as Julietta arrived. It took a good few meetings before he understood that it was her mentally preparing herself for what was about to take place. But once he understood, he left her be.

That was a way of working that had never left her. When there was a big case in DC she was the same. They'd reach a dead end and she would read over everything again, and then she'd be the one to find what they'd missed.

The meeting was to take place at the rear of building she had first met 'sir' in. There was a small piazza where apparently he did all of his business deal. She wasn't sure just who would be there when she arrived, although she was reasonably positive that Yakov would make an appearance.

* * *

The sun was out – a rare occurrence she had discovered in Moscow. Due to the appearance of the sun they sat in the Piazza it's self. The chairs were those black wrought iron ones, but thankfully they had soft white cushions on them. There were four of them who were sat down, Jenny, 'Sir', Yakov, and a man whom she had never met before, but whom she guessed was one of the men in charge of business deals. All four of them were gathered around a small table, filled with glasses of scotch curtsey of the waiters – who had appeared out of nowhere. Yakov and the business man seemed unimpressed by the scotch, but Jenny was thankful for it. Because the warmth it brought spread through her limbs and kept her warm.

At that moment in time, the man whose name she was unsure of was looking over the specs for her weapons – she'd brought a more detailed list. And she guessed he was making sure that all the numbers added up. As he did so the rest of them were silent. Yakov was sat there gazing off into the distance; however Jenny was well aware that he was taking in every move she made.

'Sir' was sat looking up at the cloud covered sky. It was quite a beautiful evening in the city, and looking up at the sky she couldn't help but smile at the darkening blue and off white clouds above her. Jenny sat there, not worried about whether the information she had brought was right, Jethro had proof read it, and so had NCIS' firearms department. Between them nothing could be wrong.

The red head leant forward and took a sip of the scotch, once more loving the warmth as it spread through her body, beside her she watched the expression on 'Sir's face, as he looked at that sky. And she wondered who he was, wondered what his real name was, who he went home to of an evening and why he woke up every morning. She knew he was the target that she would be forced to bring down if the worst came to the worst.

She sighed brushed her bangs out of her eyes, wondering what he life would be like when she returned to Washington. She wondered whether Gibbs and Stephanie's marriage would survive the deep freeze of the frozen city, or whether it would be shattered and melt when they were America bound. Jenny wondered whether she would finally be able to leave the feelings that she had developed for Gibbs behind, and move on with her life. Wondered whether Stan and Decker would last on Gibbs' team much longer; or whether they would soon be offer that promotion that was just too good to pass off.

Whilst Jenny was in Moscow, living her life as Julietta, it felt like the rest of the world was on pause. Whilst the life of Special Agent Jennifer Shepard had been paused, so had the lives of all of those that she cared about. But in the back of her mind she knew that they hadn't. Whilst she was here, every day Stan and Will would be in NCIS working, managing her op, working on the cases that came in. And then every Friday night they would head off to the bar on base, drinking shots and forgetting about all the grief that they witnessed in the job. Meeting women, and meeting people who would change their lives.

Gibbs and Stephanie were dealing with their lives, working out how to live in a foreign country.

And yet she was sat there, barely even thinking about the life of Jenny Shepard, but instead the life of Julietta. Hearing a rustle of paper she looked up, her stream of thought broken. The papers that the unknown man had been looking through were passed to 'Sir', who then took out a gold plated pen – the kind which you spun the top of so that the nib became visible – and then began to mark out which ones he wanted.

There was silence once more, Yakov watched with interest, trying to see which ones were about to be bought. She watched him, and wondered once more about his life. The hard to read man who sat with her. Who obviously trusted her more than she ever thought that he would.

Once more silence fell over them all, but only for a few moments. Soon, the unknown man removed a piece of paper from his pocked and scribbled something down on it, before folding it in half and sliding it across the table, along with the marked sheets of paper. The man then said something in Russia, and without even a second thought Yakov instantly acted as a translator for her. Knowing her Russian was rusty at best. "He says that is his offer." The red head turned to Yakov and smiled in thanks before picking up the marked pieces of paper, and scanning over what he wanted then taking the piece of paper and with such elegance she flipped it open.

His writing was rough, written with sharp lines and rushed speed in black ink. The nib of the fountain pen had been pressed harshly into the paper so that there was an imprint in the paper that could be seen from the other side. Roughly she figured out what the exchange rate was, and figured out how many dollars the equivalent was. They all knew Julietta was French, so they'd written the offer in Euros, however that still meant nothing to Jenny. When she finally figured it out, she realised they were a good couple of thousand out.

So, she herself grabbed her bag, and pulled out a black parker fountain pen, and in dark blue ink she scribbled out what they had written, and added a bit more than she needed to to the existing price. Then she folded it once more, and with a smile slid it across the table. "Non." She said in French, before sitting back in her seat and crossing her legs.

The unknown man rolled his eyes, and took the piece of paper back. He rose his eyebrows, and shook his head, before writing a new price down. This continued to go on until they agreed on a price which was exactly in the middle – and actually more than the weapons were worth. When she saw the final bit she smiled, and nodded her head. "Hmm, oui." She stated. And Sir leant across, shaking her hand and smiling at her.

"Merci boucoup." He said to her, and she just smiled. "When will we urm . . . receive the good?" He asked, and she took a look at the list she had been given of what he wanted.

"I'll have to speak with a couple of suppliers, so the delay will be a couple of weeks. But I will put a rush on it." She stated, downing the remainder of her scotch. Then she looked over at Yakov. "I will tell you when I have a date. Then you can pass it on?"

"Yes." He answered.

"Bien." Sir stated, and all of a sudden, they all had a new glass of Scotch as the waiters disappeared with their empty ones. He took his glass, and swilled the auburn liquid around in the cut crystal, before he held out his arm, and lifted his glass. "Salut." And that was it, the deal was done, the op was well under way, and everything was at its peak.

The night had gone right, now all she had to do was get them to take the weapons, and her mission would be over. She could go home . . .

If only she knew what was to come.

* * *

_Reviews are greatly appreciated! _


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